#visiting the constable
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average-wellington-wellie · 2 years ago
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Visiting the Constable
OOC: I wanted to write the next entry in Alan’s story in fic format, so this one’s a one-shot for you, folks! Story is under the cut <3
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Early in the morning, Alan Days began his trek to a certain constable's house. Chilly air brushed across his skin as he walked, the only other sound besides his soft breathing being his boots' soles against the asphalt.
With every step he took, Days felt more and more anxious; the last time he had seen the constable was when he had to pick up his wife Carolyn when she "had a couple sips of whiskey and stumbled [her] way over to his house."
'Yeah, likely story, Carolyn,' Alan thought bitterly at the memory.
It didn't take too much longer for him to get to the location he desired, but he wished it did. He didn't want to start a fight, nor get into any trouble. 'It's just to talk and maybe ask questions, Alan, how hard can it really be?'
Alan took a deep breath, then let it out slowly to calm his nerves. Then he took initiative, stepping up to the door and knocking politely. He heard some rustling around inside before the door slowly opened. A rather tired-looking man wearing just a pair of sleep shorts and a tank top stood on the other side.
“Hello, Constable Dice. I’m sorry to bother you at such an early time,” Days began, “but I wanted to get this over with. May I come in?”
Constable Dice rubbed his eyes, then nodded, moving out of the way so his guest could enter. “Yer always welcome here, y’know, Alan.”
“O-oh! Thank you, that’s- that’s really kind of you.” Alan’s cheeks warmed slightly at the kind gesture. “I
 have some things I need to talk to you about.”
Dice sat on his sofa and patted beside him, nodding to the other to continue once he sat. The smaller man softly thanked him before saying, “It’s about Carolyn. I know she made everything up.”
“I- ack!” The constable nearly choked on his own saliva. “U-uhm, hold on a moment.” He cleared his throat and shook himself awake a bit, then gently wrapped his arm around Alan. “I’m sorry.”
Days gave him a confused look. “What, did you have something to do with it?”
“Nay, I jus’
 I heard about it, since the other bobbies were gossipin’ about the whole thing.” Dice looked at the carpet, idly tracing the patterns with his eyes. “I didn’t want to believe it. But I shoulda told ya the rumors anyway, and tha’s on me.”
Alan sadly nodded and reached up to hold the other’s hand that was on his shoulder. “I can’t blame you. I
 I was nervous about coming here. I was scared I’d lose a friend, because maybe we’d fight or you’d have something to do with the whole thing. I knew you wouldn’t do something so
 awful, but it’s hard to trust people right now.”
"I understand, and I'm sorry." Dice held Alan close and let him cry into his chest. "Tha's it, let it all out... Ye can stay with me as long as ya need to."
"Thank you, thank you, Dice," Days whimpered, clinging to the larger man.
Dice placed a soft kiss atop Alan's head. "Anythin' fer you, Alan."
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leona-florianova · 1 month ago
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Constable Dorfl and Constable Visit-The-Infidel-With-Explanatory-Pamphlets discussing religion.
a gift for @chechula
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chechula · 1 year ago
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Reg(Undead yes, unperson no) and Visit(-The-Infidel-With-Explanatory-Pamphlets), on their way to do some activism in the streets of Ankh-Morpkpork ♄ for Ari ♄
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arthistoryanimalia · 2 months ago
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For #WorldDonkeyDay đŸ«:
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John Constable (English, 1776–1837)
Two Donkeys, 1816
Oil on canvas, mounted on panel
7 1/2 × 9 7/8 in. (19.1 × 25.1 cm)
On display at @ Philadelphia Museum of Art (Inv. 155)
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scarecloud69 · 11 months ago
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Things To Never Say To Someone Who Just Came Out - Discworld Edition: Part 3
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Part 1, Part 2, Part 3
(source, art my own)
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moss-under-a-rock · 1 year ago
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I am not normal
The base is from pinterest
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adwbs · 14 days ago
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might give myself one of those dodgy puritan names and call it a day
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erkauberscream · 2 years ago
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reg & visit - doodles from 2021
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inspectorspacetimerevisited · 1 year ago
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The main reason most alien planets the Inspector and his Associates visit have Earth-like conditions is
it saves on the Wardrobe Department creating new spacesuits for every Associate and every new world visited. And, the programme tries to avoid using wires to simulate low- or zero-gravity environments.
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hellhoundmaggie · 2 years ago
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I wish I could do all these FL OC games but I just can't get into the head of my character. She's more a vehicle I use to explore the game than a character in her own right. I have a much easier time getting into the head of my MOTR character, but I simply can't imagine her as a 60+ year old running around and having adventures with everybody's ocs I'm sorry I'm sorry
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angualupin · 8 months ago
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“We are here, and this is now.” Constable Visit, a strict believer in the Omnian religion, occasionally quoted that from their holy book. Vimes understood it to mean, in less exalted copper speak, that you have to do the job that is in front of you.
--Terry Pratchett, Night Watch
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theygotlost · 1 month ago
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FIG. I
Authorities report the grisly and unforeseen murders of Mr. and Mrs. Fitzgerald Stonecastle, discovered in their home at dawn this morning. The whereabouts of their only heir, seventeen years of age, are unknown as no body of the youth was found. Our readers may be hasty to conclude the case a patricide, but one constable on the scene made the rather troublesome remark that the bodies were subject to such violent dismemberment he theorized the deaths were not the work of man but a sort of mad beast, or even the Devil himself. Funeral services for the Stonecastles will be held this Saturday at Dorsey Cemetery. As the investigation continues, the authorities welcome all information regarding Mstr. Stonecastle, or any additional suspicious characters or unruly animals.
— The Dorsey Hill Evening Post, November 1894
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FIG. II
This issue marks sixth months following the grim and infamous deaths of one Stonecastle family in Dorsey Hill. Eight deceased have subsequently been found about the city in a similar unfortunate state to the Stonecastles: mauled and masticated, marked by animal's claws and teeth as if attacked by a particularly sizable mad dog. Should one visit the city today, he will hear rumors of a curious creature that feasts on persons caught out of doors late at night— but only under the light of a full moon. The physical attributes of the so-called "Butcher-Beast of Dorsey Hill" remain an enigma as eyewitness reports greatly conflict with one another. Notwithstanding, Dorsey Hill authorities advise citizens to navigate the streets with utmost prudence until the Butcher-Beast is apprehended.
— The Northside Oddities Report, May 1895
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FIG. III
Mstr. Oleander D'Fleur, youngest-born son of Sir Hawthorne D'Fleur, has been reported missing to the authorities after disappearing from the family estate two nights prior. Sir D'Fleur has promised a sum of ten thousand dollars to any person able to locate his son and provide a safe return home in a timely fashion.
— The Dorsey Hill Tribune, March 1899
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FIG. IV
In recent weeks, various sightings of a macabre apparition have been reported on the outskirts of the small northern town of Rembrandt. Witnesses describe "a figure with no face" wandering about the municipal cemetery. The more detailed testimonies describe a dark-haired man clad head to toe in black— or by some accounts a woman in a black dress— with flesh rent from the face such as to expose the underlying bone and sinews. When asked for comment, the cemetery's resident undertaker replied, "Cemetery hours are from dawn to dusk. Now won't you go away? Please don't hurt me."
— The Northside Oddities Report, August 1899
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non-eviscerated family portrait
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gay-dorito-dust · 1 year ago
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Imagine Jason or Dick being jealous or pissed over Damian being a thirdwheel/cockblocked unintentionally with their gf lmao
That would be a funny sight to see. To make it worse, their gf loves spending time with Damian, viewing him as a smol tsundere cat-looking child that they want to kiss or nuzzle his cheeks whenever he's present lol. Of course with his consent.
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Jason felt as though Damian had it out for him sometimes

He couldn’t explain why as during the times that he did interrupt a sweet moment regarding you and him, they were few and far between for Jason to think that Damian was doing this coincidentally, but it happened too many times for him to count on one hand for it to not be apart of some grander scheme of his.
You however disagreed with that statement but Jason called you out on your bias towards his younger brother, meaning that your opinion was invalid.
You warned him that you wouldn’t cuddle him for a week if he tried that shit with you again
Jason was quick to concede to your demands because he honestly couldn’t live without your cuddles. But that didn’t change the fact that he truly believed that Damian not so secretly had it out for him, and it drove him to near insanity that he couldn’t prove it to you because Damian always acted prim and proper within your presence, clinging to your side from the moment you enter Wayne Manor up until you had to leave; all the wile acting like a demon spawn with him.
‘You feeling sleepy there chipmunk?’ Jason uttered softly upon noticing you trying your hardest to stay awake while mid-way through reading his book.
‘You’re being too comfortable Jaybirdie. I’m naturally going to fall asleep on you eventually.’ You murmured, snuggling closer into him to leech off of his warmth, pushing your head up so that it went from resting on his chest to resting against his shoulder and looking into his eyes. ‘Can I have a kiss?’ You asked. ‘What’s the magic word?’ Jason teased and when you pouted, he only chuckled and rested his forehead against your own, brushing his nose against yours. ‘I’m joking sweetheart, you can have all the kisses you want.’ He speaks lowly against your lips and just when he was about to kiss you, another voice spoke up from across the room.
‘Todd, l/n.’
‘Fucking- Jesus Christ.’ Jason flinched away from you and his eyes settled on Damian, who was stood at the end of the plush couch with a book of his own in hand, and asks. ‘Damian, what’re you doing here?’ You gave Jason a harsh nudge in the side along with a warning glare, only to visibly brightening upon seeing Damian. ‘Hi Damian! Don’t mind Jason he’s being a grump, would you like us to make room for you to sit down?’ Before Damian could get a word out you were already looking towards Jason and he groaned as he begrudgingly shifted to the other side of the couch.
‘Thank you l/n, I don’t know what Todd would be without your influence.’ Damian said as he took his seat in the space made available between you and Jason and cracked open his book that was filled with detailed descriptions of artists such as Claude Monet, John Constable and Jan Van Goyen just to name a few. ‘Unbelievable.’ Jason scoffed, looking anywhere other than you and Damian, impatiently tapping his finger against the arm on the couch for every second that Damian overstayed his welcome.
You however were thriving on the time you got with Damian as he showed you some of his favourite artists, telling you why that was while also information dropping interesting facts about art in general; You weren’t well versed in art and you weren’t claiming that you were but you silently thanked him for putting it into words that you could easily understand without feeling too out of your depth. After all it wasn’t very often that you visited the Wayne Manor but when you did, Damian was often the first -if not only- family member you wanted to see first and foremost.
‘You coddle him too much.’ Jason complained once after seeing you tightly hug Damian upon finding out he had come home from clearing a particularly dangerous mission all by himself. ‘I do not!’ You rebutted, crossing your arms. ‘Uh hate to break it to you chipmunk but you do in fact coddle him.’ Jason insisted, not liking the fact that he now had to share your attention with the little shit. ‘Then let’s ask him then.‘ you looked at your side where Damian was leaning against, minding his own business as he petted Alfred the cat’s black fur while the feline looked close to falling asleep. ‘Damian do I coddle you too much?’
Damian hummed as he looked into Jason’s eyes with a deadpan expression and said. ‘No you don’t, Todd’s just being jealous.’ And just like that he went back to petting Alfred the cat without a care to see the murderous look Jason was shooting him, all the while you were non the wise and were thrilled at the fact that Damian out right admitted to enjoying your company.
‘Isn’t he just the sweetest thing.’ You said to Jason who was gritting his teeth. ‘Oh ain’t he just.’ He spat and Damian smirked as he rested more of himself against you just to hear Jason growl. This was going to be a long weekend.
Dick Grayson didn’t mind Damian joining you at first, he even encouraged it purely out of the idea that Damian would get accustomed to your presence- thinking that it would form a bond between you- but Dick would soon learn that it would ultimately be his undoing.
‘Dick! Stop!’ You squealed as you poor attempts to push him away were dismissed as his hold on you tightened, pulling you further against him as he briefly put a stop to his bombardment of kisses to make a face of thought.
‘Hmmm let me think on that
I don’t think I will.’ He said as he continued to pepper kisses across your face to his heart content, all the while purposefully avoiding kissing your lips much to your growing dismay as you tried to steal at least one kiss from his lips, only to find yourself being unsuccessful in your many attempts.
‘Close but I appreciate a good attempt.’ Dick teased, pressing a kiss to your nose before cutely rubbing his nose against yours and choosing to keep his face close to your own, his lips becoming a smirk. ‘Though if a kiss is what you wanted, all you needed to do is ask and I would’ve happily obliged.’ He chuckled and pulled his face away when you tried to lean in for a kiss. ‘Stop pulling away.’ You whined and Dick couldn’t help but find it infinitely cuter when you tried to reach out to him, only for him to kiss the back of you hand before intertwine your fingers.
‘Then ask me to kiss you.’ He said. ‘Ask me to kiss you and then we’d both be happy.’ He adds on, not wanting to reveal how desperate he was for your sweet, sweet kisses just yet. However fate had other plans for him when Damian burst into the room and you had immeditly pushed Dick off of you so hard that he landed on the hard flooring of his bedroom.
‘Damian!’ You cheered. ‘How’s my favourite Wayne doing today?’
‘Your favourite?’ Dick groaned as he got up, rubbing his aching back as he looked over at the two of you, pouting. ‘I thought I was your favourite.’ Dick felt a little betrayed that you would easily discard him for his younger brother like you did, but knew that you meant nothing by it other then just raw excitement at seeing his younger brother after so long.
‘I’m doing well.’ Damian replied, giving you a small smile as he welcomed your tight hug before looking over at his older brother who looked like a kicked puppy. ‘Still putting up with Grayson and his dramatics?’ You dramatically slumped your shoulders. ‘It might as well be considered my full time job at this point.’ You joked, smiling upon hearing Dick’s gasp of disbelief.
‘I’ll have you know I am a delightful person!’ He defended himself, crossing his arms and looking away from you both. You and Damian shared a look. ‘Yeah a delightful pain in my ass.’ You whispered under your breath as you looked back at Dick while Damian smirked. ‘Are you still pouting?’ You asked.
‘Obviously!’ Dick exclaimed, throwing his arms in the air, ‘tonight was meant to be date night. Our night.’ He said, somehow managing to pout even further as he continued to glare as the opposing wall as though it had personally insulted him just now. ‘I’ll make it up to you so can you please quit with the dramatics.’ You said but Dick didn’t move and only huffed in response, showing that wasn’t good enough for him.
‘Wanna go for a walk Damian? Maybe that’ll help you with the lack of inspiration for your latest art piece?’ You then brought your attention back to the young man with the emerald eyes as he visibly perked up at the offer. ‘I could go for a walk.’ He replied and just before leaving the room he casted his eyes towards Dick. ‘What’s about him?’
‘Yeah what about him.’ Dick said sarcastically from his corner, causing you to look to the ceiling with a disbelieving smile upon your lips. ‘He can come but only on the condition that he stops being pouty.’ You said and for a minute it was silent until you felt a pair of strong arms at your waist and his face buried in your neck. ‘Only if we can go back to our regularly scheduled date night.’ Dick muttered against your skin. ‘Without Damian.’ He adds and you rub your hands over the back of his reassuringly. ‘Certainly my little dickie bird. No need to get jealous of your little brother now. It’s not a good look on you.’ You teased him this time and dick groaned. ‘Only when you stop encouraging his behaviour.’ He said.
You scoffed. ‘Says the one who was all for us having a bond.’
‘And I’ve learnt my lesson.’ Dick retorted. ‘There’s only room for one person in your heart and it’s me and I’m not sharing.’ You cooed as you pressed a kiss to his temple. ‘Careful there, you almost sound possessive.’ You taunted him, having way too much teasing him and giving him a taste of his own medicine.
‘So what if I am?’ Dick asked.
‘Then I’d say that you have nothing to worry about,’ you reassured him, picking one of his hands from your waist and kissing it before allowing it to go back to your waist, ‘you’ll always be my number one dickie bird.’
It was sad that date night didn’t go to plan but by the end of the night you, Dick and Damian were fast asleep on the couch with Dick flat on his back and holding you against his chest, while you held Damian against your chest and Damian cuddling up to the both of you and holding onto you tightly; deathly afraid of letting go but his grip going completely slack upon falling asleep.
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city-of-ladies · 1 month ago
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Female detective, Serio-Comic Journal (1885)
"A man walked into the shop. It was November 1883 and the high street in Chipping Barnet was beginning to look festive in anticipation of Christmas. There were likely oranges piled in pyramids, chestnuts in boxes packed with straw alongside red and green apples and mottled pears, brought by horse and cart to the great markets at Covent Garden from the orchards of Kent.
The woman behind the counter looked the man up and down. Jemima Davis was the shopkeeper’s wife. At thirty-seven, she had four children (Martha, Adelaide, Hector and Maud) and had been married to George, fishmonger and greengrocer, for almost a decade. She knew her apples, and this customer looked like a bad one. He paid a florin for a couple of bloaters (smoked herring) and, after handing him his change, she inspected the two-shilling piece closely. Jemima had seen forged coins before. Often the queen’s head was badly imitated; sometimes the lettering was wrong, or they felt suspiciously light in the hand. There were hundreds of snides – false coins – in circulation, defrauding honest shopkeepers like herself. She was sure this was one of them.
Jemima glanced up from the till. The man had melted. She rushed after him into the street; he was nowhere to be seen. At this point, most shop owners would have folded their arms and written off the transaction as one of those many irritations with which existence is rife. But Jemima Davis was not that kind of woman. She ran along the High Street, peering in at each shop window. There he was! The man was taking tea in a coffee shop. Jemima trailed him to a sweet shop. When she asked behind the counter if she could see the half-crown he had tendered, she saw immediately that this coin, too, was bad. The same was true of the chemist he visited next. Certain now that the man was not just an unlucky punter who had been given one bad coin while shopping, but was himself a counterfeiter, Jemima ran to fetch a policeman.
Constable Bristow, whether out of inexperience or nerves, headed off in the wrong direction to arrest the suspect: he went back to the chemist. Jemima’s aim was surer. She caught up with the man in the baker’s, further along Chipping Barnet High Street, where he had just used false coin to buy some buns. Jemima confronted him and pushed him back into the shop, from which he was trying to beat a hasty retreat. She grabbed his bag. There was a struggle. When the man tried to escape, she seized firm hold of him. And, despite the fact that he ‘threw her through the shop window’, she succeeded in holding him fast and long enough that PC Bristow caught up and the suspect was apprehended.
Thomas Wise (forty), a blacksmith who had been working in Liverpool, was found to have twenty-three counterfeit half-crowns and four counterfeit florins on his person, wrapped in a kid glove. He claimed that he had found the hoard by accident in a gypsy encampment, but this story failed to impress the magistrate, who sentenced him to twelve months with hard labour. Jemima Davis’s capture of the ‘smasher’, or forger, was commemorated in several newspapers.
For the modern reader who visualises the Victorian period chiefly through novels written by and for middle-class men and women, Jemima’s actions are significant because they remind us that working-class women’s bodies and behaviour did not adhere to the constraints we often imagine governed female physicality in the period. We are more accustomed to scenes in which Victorian women faint, paint and look out of windows than scenes in which women run after criminals, wrestle with them and are thrown through windows."
The Mysterious Case of the Victorian Female Detective, Sara Loge
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mybeingthere · 5 months ago
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Norval Morrisseau, CM (1932 – 2007), also known as Copper Thunderbird, was an Aboriginal Canadian artist. Known as the "Picasso of the North", Morrisseau created works depicting the legends of his people, the cultural and political tensions between native Canadian and European traditions, his existential struggles, and his deep spirituality and mysticism. His style is characterized by thick black outlines and bright colors. He founded the Woodlands School of Canadian art and was a prominent member of the “Indian Group of Seven”.
An Anishinaabe, he was born March 14, 1931 on the Sand Point Ojibway reserve near Beardmore, Ontario. Some sources quote him as saying that he was born in Fort William, now part of Thunder Bay, Ontario, on the same date in 1931. His full name is Jean-Baptiste Norman Henry Morrisseau, but he signs his work using the Cree syllabics writing ᐅᓔᐚᐱᐊᑯᐱᓀᐊᓯ (Ozaawaabiko-binesi, unpointed: á…á“Žá˜á±á‘Żá±á“€á“Ż, "Copper/Brass [Thunder]Bird"), as his pen-name for his Anishnaabe name ᒄᐹᒁᐱᐊᐠ ᐊᓂᒄᐊᑟ (Miskwaabik Animikii, unpointed: ᒄᐹᑿᐱᐠ ᐊᓂᒄᑭ, "Copper Thunderbird").
In accordance with Anishnaabe tradition, he was raised by his maternal grandparents. His grandfather, Moses Potan Nanakonagos, a shaman, taught him the traditions and legends of his people. His grandmother, Grace Theresa Potan Nanakonagos, was a devout Catholic and from her he learned the tenets of Christianity. The contrast between these two religious traditions became an important factor in his intellectual and artistic development.
At the age of six, he was sent to a Catholic residential school, where students were educated in the European tradition, native culture was repressed, and the use of native language was forbidden. After two years he returned home and started attending a local community school.
At the age of 19, he became very sick. He was taken to a doctor but his health kept deteriorating. Fearing for his life, his mother called a medicine-woman who performed a renaming ceremony: She gave him the new name Copper Thunderbird. According to Anishnaabe tradition, giving a powerful name to a dying person can give them new energy and save their lives. Morrisseau recovered after the ceremony and from then on always signed his works with his new name.
Morrisseau contracted tuberculosis in 1956 and was sent to Fort William Sanatorium to recover. There he met his future wife Harriet Kakegamic with whom he had seven children, Victoria, Michael, Peter, David, Lisa, Eugene, and Christian.
After being invited by Ontario Provincial Police Constable, Robert Sheppard, to meet the artist, the anthropologist Selwyn Dewdney, became an early advocate of Morrisseau's and was very interested in Morrisseau's deep knowledge of native culture and myth. Dewdney was the first to take his art to a wider public.
Jack Pollock, a Toronto art dealer, helped expose Morrisseau's art to a wider audience in the 1960s. The two initially met in 1962 while Pollock was teaching a painting workshop in Beardmore. As Pollock did not drive, Susan Ross whom Morrisseau had met in 1961 and Sheila Burnford drove Pollock to visit Morrisseau at his home to view more of his works. Immediately struck by the genius of Morrisseau's art, he immediately organized an exhibition of his work at his Toronto gallery.
This is a part of the Wikipedia article used under the Creative Commons Attribution-Sharealike 3.0 Unported License (CC-BY-SA). The full text of the article is here →
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scareclouddraws · 10 months ago
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second batch right from the oven!!
!! Feel free to use them for memes, edits, or profile pictures !!
just please tag me (this blog or @scarecloud69)
characters names under cut
(left to right, top to bottom)
Twoflower
Willikins
Visit-The-Infidel-With-Explanatory-Pamphlets
Sergeant Fred Colon
Detritus
The Librarian
Greebo (Human Form)
Susan Sto Helit
Nanny Gytha Ogg
Lady Sybil Vimes (Ramkin)
Cheery Littlebottom
Magrat Garlick
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First batch, more on the way!!
(left to right, top to bottom)
Mustrum Ridcully
Samuel Vimes
Havelock Vetinari
Moist von Lipwig
Death
Angua von Überwald
Adora Belle Dearheart
Nobby Nobbs
Granny Esme Weatherwax
Ponder Stibbons
Rincewind
Carrot Ironfoundersson
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