#15th c. sculpture

[jeannepompadour]

Reliquary bust of St. Mary Magdalene by Michel Erhart, c. 1475-80

[snailspng]

Random PNGs, part 143.

(1. Glass-stained seraphim, 2. Old book, 3. Pitcher by Paul Dachsel for Amphora Ceramics, 4. Shoe sculpture by Costa Magarakis, 5. Key from 1887, 6. Ammassalik from Greenland 1934, 7. Tiffany bronze and blow-out glass inkwell, 8. Prayer bead from late 15th or early 16th c., 9. Black henbane root sickle by Borealis Ironworks)

[hometoursandotherstuff]

If you are in need of a larger home, this villa, that from the 15th to the 19th century, was added onto by the Acciaioli family, has 58 bedrooms, and 87 baths! Now, that can accommodate the whole gang, and then some. It's in Cerbaia, Florence, Tuscany Italy. The price is available upon application to buy. And, it has some great murals.

You get gorgeous Baroque sculpture and a painting just like the Sistine Chapel.

What a lovely, sunny room that opens to a terrace.

Didn't I tell you that it had great murals? Look at the gaiety of this one with minstrels, clowns, etc.

Beautiful dining room. This place isn't creepy, it gets lots of natural light.

Every day dining room steps up to a nice family room.

It has 5 reception rooms. I like this casual one with the fireplace and loft.

This is a more formal one. It's big, light and bright with a beautifully painted ceiling.

Like how the rooms have different looks. This is a more rustic Tuscany style.

With 58 bedrooms it needs a dining space to accommodate a crowd. Wish they showed a photo of the fireplace- it looks fabulous.

Look at the mural in this bedroom, plus the ceiling over the bed. Gorgeous sitting area with a sleep alcove.

The bedrooms are very large. They do use a lot of beige in here, though.

Which to choose? Different styles of bedrooms.

Of course it has its own chapel.

Has some cool courtyards and balconies and things.

Got to have a tower, too.

I wonder if they have cell phone service b/c no one would ever find you in this home.

And, a beautiful pool.

Amazing grounds.

Anybody handy with a hedge trimmer?

No matter where you look, there's a beautiful view of Tuscany.

This is gorgeous.

View of some of the rooftops.

And, one of several terraces. There's 27.18 acres of property.

[writeshite]

would you write more of the smart cookie fic? im just very very into it and would love a part 2 🫶🏻

Love You To The Moon & Back

Summary:

“Good morning to you, too,” you kiss his forehead, and he mumbles something else, snuggling deeper into your arms. “What happened to the early bird catches the worm, hmm?” “....not a bird…no worms please….” he mumbles. “Hmm,” you respond, rubbing circles along his back, “How about pancakes? I think I might have some blueberries or chocolate chips,” you muse; Spencer peeks up at you. “Ah, I see I’ve piqued your interest.”

Pairings:

Spencer Reid x Male Reader

Tags:

Tattooed Reader (Because I Don’t See Enough Of That) | Fluff | A Wee Bit Of Angst | Developing Relationship | I Shook Spencer & Insecurities Fell Out | Inaccurate Laws & Profiling Probably (Take What I Write With A Grain Of Salt :)

Words: 4690

Author's Note:

Yes, you may ����. I've been thinking of doing some more stuff for the AUs I make, cause it's fun, and I think male & gender-neutral readers need more AUs. Sorry for making this long 💀.

Previous

I found the experience of falling in love or being in love was a death: a death of everything. You kind of watch yourself die in a wonderful way, and you experience for the briefest moment - if you see yourself for a moment through their eyes - everything you believed about yourself gone. In a death-and-rebirth sense.

- Hozier

Around Spencer, the kitchen felt like a world away as he took in the feeling he was experiencing; with light, frivolous laughter, he hid his face in your chest to stop himself from falling into giddy hysterics. You were equally as giddy, chuckling when Spencer met your eye, “So…what now?” he asked.

“Well, we’ve got a few more hours of work,” you respond, chuckling when his face scrunched up in mock irritation, “but after, we could go on a date,” you suggest.

“Date?”

“Hmm, you know,” you respond, “that thing people do when they want to pursue a romantic relationship.” He smiles; admittedly, he hadn’t thought past the kiss, now surprised to find you wanted to cultivate something along the lines of an actual romantic relationship with him. 

“Yeah, I know,” he responds, “what do you have in mind?”

“Well, the museum has a new Classics exhibit,” you reply, and Spencer is amazed that you’d genuinely been paying attention when he’d dumped his knowledge of 15th Century literature on you. “What do you say?”

“Yes,” he nods enthusiastically, excitedly bouncing on the balls of his feet. The hours left at work breeze through fast, and Spencer spends most of it with dancing hands, a wide smile on his face - your date is set to 9:30 AM, Saturday morning. He goes home with a prep in his step, and when the weekend comes around, his enthusiasm soars; Saturday morning sees few clouds in the sky and the promise of sun. Spencer kept to his usual attire of casualness; the streets were averagely busy, and he twists the strap of his satchel on his way there, quelling any anxieties that manage to break past the excitement. Said anxieties are set aside when he notes how well your leather jacket hugs your arms. 

“Hey, cookie,” you greet, hand reaching out to hold his.

“Hey,” he threads his fingers with yours, thumb rubbing circles on your skin as you make your way through the museum. The Classics exhibit displayed several kraters from c. 520-500 BCE, Etruscan figurines, Greek and Roman sculptures, and various other artifacts. Classics isn’t as interesting a topic it seems, as the crowd is relatively small, but Spencer is thankful for that - the overcrowded dinosaur exhibit you’d passed came to mind, and he shuddered at the thought of being caught up in that. 

“Etruscan tomb painting….” You read off one of the displays before turning to him with a knowing smile.

“Oh, the Etruscans were a civilization that flourished in Central Italy between the 8th and 3rd Century BCE, renowned in antiquity for their rich mineral resources and as a major Mediterranean trading power,” he speaks easily, basking in the fondness you directed towards his rambling. “Much of their history and culture was either destroyed or assimilated into the conquering Roman Empire. Tomb painting is considered one of the Etruscans' greatest legacies, with beautifully painted tombs in Tarquinia, Cerveteri, Chiusi, and Vulci.”

The exhibit didn’t have the actual paintings, instead displaying photographic copies with annotations and interactive maps; the sculptures are set up to mimic the inside of a temple, leading to the back where the kraters are set. The other sculptures are scattered about the room, and Spencer beams when you turn to him for information, having spoken more today than he has in a long time. He coughs in the middle of his tangent about pediments; he rubs the back of his neck and apologizes for the scratchy throat.

You chuckle, “Come on, let’s get something for that cough, eh?” The museum’s cafe is surprisingly empty, with a few people milling about here and there and the majority off at the shops. You both get iced teas and take a table away near one of the window walls. Spencer keeps hold of your hand and drums his fingers mindlessly. He is saddened when the date comes to an end. “C —can we do this again?”

You nod enthusiastically in response, and still riding on the coattails of joy, he asks, “Can I kiss you again?”

“As many times as you like, love.” 

He beams, leaning into your space to do just that, his thumb rubs across your skin, and even after you part for the day, Spencer is ecstatic - the joy persisting into tomorrow as he skips with every step. “Well, well, well, someone’s happy,” Derek remarks. “I hope this means you finally said something to loverboy.”

“Yup,” Spencer responds, “we, uh, had a date yesterday.”

Derek pats Spencer’s back with a proud smile, “You know what this means? I, Derek Morgan, was right.” Spencer shakes his head; any attempts to clarify to Derek that this wasn’t exactly an I told you so moment fell on deaf ears as the man smugly waltzed from the elevator with a cheer. Spencer follows after; when you arrive some moments later, it’s with two coffees as usual, and the day begins as the first of many days chasing an unsub through the Appalachian Mountains. 

“It’s almost like some twisted sightseeing event,” Derek mumbles. “The unsub’s earliest activities can be traced in Alabama; they kidnap two people, and from what the surviving witnesses have said, make both victims fight to the death, the winner gets to live.”

“Ties get both killed, and refusal to fight does the same,” you add. “They’re patient, willing to wait for months if need be to strike again. The murders between Kentucky and West Virginia had two years between them; if they are following the mountains, then there’s a chance they’ll cross over into Canada and most likely out of our hands.”

“Alright, then, let’s make sure that doesn’t happen,” Gideon says, “What else do we know?”

“They’re also meticulous, the locations, the methods, the choosing of victims. It’s all so careful, like some form of entertainment,” Spencer responds.

The facts are as follows:

The unsub has little regard for other people, seeing them as pawns for their own amusement.

The victims appear randomly selected, but on closer inspection, all seem to play into their disturbing amusement. Features vary, but all work in the retail industry - the unsub walks through retail stores for hours before picking. They’d do the same company for two states before switching to another, then another, and another.

Victims had a week; after that, survivors were left tied, with a sack over their heads at their place of work, and corpses were left in the same place as well.

The unsub didn’t care for publicity and seemed to want to keep it as something private. 

Pennsylvania is the next destination; the first victim is already chosen by the time of landing, which leaves one of hundreds if not thousands of other potential candidates. Spencer and Gideon stay with the local police department, you split off with Ellle, and Hotch goes off with Derek. Spencer bounces off theories and facts with Gideon; the profile becomes clearer but comes with a few more holes. The unsub seems well-red, familiar with police procedures, not intimately, more so like someone who’s read and heard extensively enough to understand.

“The space between murders suggests they must have traveling involved in their day-to-day life to be able to do so with such ease. Said life must offer them some satisfaction if they’re able to handle their urges so well.“ Gideon pointed to the mapped-out route of the unsub, “They could be in the tourism field, a flight attendant or a business consultant, something that lets them go from state to state easily enough.”

“Business consultants are sought after for their professional advice and services; they locate challenges in businesses and strategize plans to find solutions; they essentially come in and take over control, in the same way the unsub takes power over one’s life from their victims.” Spencer rambles, “but why target retails workers?”

Gideon sighs, “The higher up the chain you go, the less regard you have for your fellow man,” he states, “83% of retail workers report harassment from customers, the higher the social class, the worse the abuse can be. Our unsub’s disregard for human life may also be intrinsically linked to their social class as well as their occupation.”

“So everyone below a certain point is no better than cattle to them?” Gideon nods in response to Spencer’s question. 

“Can I help you folks out?”

The Goodwill of the first victim’s kidnapping was small, residential houses all around; the community around it wasn’t small per se, but close enough to take note when outsiders came about. The manager, Naomi Hughes, is a kind middle-aged woman of relative height, hair in a neat row of braids along her head.

You and Elle introduce yourselves and draw out your badges, “We’re here about Hayden Mullins.”

She nods, “Oh yes…uh…come with me.” She leads you to the back and into her office, “Hayden was working the closing shift when he was abducted, I told him not to work it alone, but he was determined. Home isn’t the happiest place for him,” she explains, “I’d let him sleep here when his dad was making a ruckus, get some food in him. He’s a good kid; I don’t know why anyone would go after him.”

“Did he have any hostile interactions with customers in the days before he was taken?” you ask.

“Who doesn’t? Folks get real snappy when you can’t get them what they want.” She rubs her temple, “I had a customer scream at me 'cause we didn’t carry non-salted water,” she exclaims with quotation marks, “what the hell is non-salted water?”

Elle huffs and shakes her head, “What about friendly customers? Did you notice anyone who didn’t act the way you’d expect? Anyone who stood out for a different reason?”

Naomi purses her lips, “Now that you mention it,” she opens her desk and pulls out a file, “There was this one woman; she was nice, like really nice. She said she’d just come off a four-hour road trip, so we was ready for all sorts of tantrums, but….”

“But what?” Elle asks.

“She was sweet. Smiled at me and said it was alright when we couldn’t get her what she needed,” Naomi’s face scrunched up a little, “I was a little spooked if I’m being honest; I mean, I’ve had nice customers, but she was something else.” She shuddered, passing over the file to you, “I was gonna forget all about her, but….when she looked at Hayden,” she shook her head, “I got a bad feeling.”

Inside the file was a woman’s side profile - hair clipped back into a bun, light makeup from what you can note in the black and white frame, a neatly kept suit - for all intents and purposes, a regular businesswoman. 

“Hayden was stocking the shelves, I think, and she got mad when he couldn’t man a checkout. Had to have her escorted from the premises, but she came back again —oh my god, do you think she—”

“We don’t know that yet, ma’am,” you interject, “this is still an ongoing investigation; we’re just looking into all the facts as of now.”

“Don’t blame yourself for anything that happened,” Elle tells her.

Naomi nods, “Promise me something, if…if anything happens, you’ll tell me before you tell the news, understand?” You both nod to her request and leave with the security footage and any receipts linked back to the woman.

“If this, April Walsh is our unsub,” Elle points to the picture, “it sounds like she doesn’t like to lose control, the ties, the refusal to fight, it was in the hands of the victims, it was anarchy….” 

“....she can’t let it thrive,” you finish. “The store is already out of her comfort zone and control; what if she assigns roles to the people around her, say Naomi? Managers are notorious for allowing bad behavior, but when Naomi didn’t….” You get behind the wheel and drive while throwing around more theories.

“....she got angry. April told Naomi she came off a four-hour drive; how far is the last crime scene?” She pulls out her phone, and minutes later, she cheers, “Four hours, and eighteen minutes, it’s not much, but….”

“It’s something; let’s get back to Spencer and Gideon with the info.” 

“Speaking of Spencer,” Elle chuckles, “a little birdy told me the two of you went out on a date.”

You groan and roll your eyes, “Seriously?”

“Come on, I mean, Derek’s been bragging that he got Mr. Lovebird and the Resident Genius together,” she quips, “plus, you two make a cute couple.”

You smile, “Thanks. At the very least, I know there’s another date somewhere in the future, so good things to come, I hope.”

“Oh, they’re definitely coming,” Elle remarks. You lightly smack her arm and laugh as you pull up to the local precinct. She raises her eyebrows when Spencer greets you laughing when you stick your tongue out at her.

“Hey, cookie.”

“Hey,” he responds, grinning at you, “did you bring me anything?” he quips.

“How does a potential name for our unsub sound?” You give him the file, “and also, a few more details to add to the profile?”

“I’d say it sounds good,” Gideon responds with a small smile. You and Spencer huff, amused and bashful - Elle relays the theories you’d bounced off each other in the car as Spencer pins April’s image on the board, while Gideon does the same to catch you up on what he and Spencer discussed while you were away. “We can brief the officers when Hotch and Derek get back.”

“It’s about two things,” Gideon begins, facing the  “control and entertainment. The unsub does not care for anyone but herself; at best, anyone outside of that is a form of entertainment and, at worst, an annoyance.” He points to April’s security image, “April Kennedy Walsh is a business consultant, highly sought after from what we’ve gathered, and meticulous with just about everything, from her schedule to her wardrobe.”

“Her method of murder calls back to the gladiatorial fights in the Colosseum; the emperor and the people of Rome would watch as gladiators fought with each other or animals,” Spencer adds, “she feels no remorse for her victims and rewards winners with their life. Refusing to fight for her amusement might insult her in some way, as though she were an actual Roman emperor.”

“She fits in easily with the crowd from a distance, but up close, her disregard peeks through during moments of loss of control. She’s not shown any violent behaviors during those times, but it can’t be ruled out,” Derek passes copies of April’s photos, “and judging by how she took little time to disguise herself in any way, she’s not afraid of being caught. In fact, this whole chase could be another form of entertainment for her, the same way you or I sit back and watch TV.”

“The potential want to be caught doesn’t mean she isn’t using an alias and could be a way to challenge us, so be on the lookout,” Gideon finished.

The officers split off after the debrief, and you gather back as a group, “There’s a few other Goodwills from the first and a bunch more in Pennsylvania; we can’t search them all,” Elle points out, “and even if we did, she’s patient, she could just as easily wait until the smoke blows over before coming back.”

“We don’t have much of a choice; handing out her photo to the media could cause her to abandon the hunt too, and then we’d have no easy way of finding Hayden,” you say, “there has to be some kind of pattern between the stores she chooses.”

“She chooses the same two stores for each pair of victims, always employees, never managers; after two pairs, she changes stores,” JJ reiterates, “what if she’s following the road? Picking whatever store she sees on her way?” She looks at the map, hand trailing over the red pins set on the previous stores, “The first incident was in Huntsville, Alabama, from there, and according to her schedule, she had been on a back-to-back business expose.”

You pick up blue pins and place them outside the border of the Appalachian Mountains, “In that two-year break period, she was in Lancaster, Ohio.” You put a pin there, “then Richmond, Virginia. Maybe, the two-year gap wasn’t by choice or lack of available victims.”

“Personal tragedy? But we couldn’t find anything like that,” JJ sighed, “then again, we could barely find anything about her personal life. Her parents are divorced, and when I called and asked about April, they hung up on me really quick.”

“What are you thinking?” You ask.

“Well, what if this disregard for people started early? Her mother was a judge, her father a surgeon; I’d say that’s enough money to cover up any accidents,” JJ theorizes, “both high-pressure jobs might have caused the divorce. But why not speak about their daughter?”

“One or both parents could have felt guilty, argued with the other about covering it up, then,” you shrug, “divorce?”

You dial Garcia’s number and wait as the tone rings, “Mistress of all knowledge, how may I enlighten you today?”

“Hey, gorgeous,” you greet, she scoffs on the other end, and you can imagine she’s rolling her eyes.

“Ah, my favorite work of art,” she greets back.

“We need to know if April has any juvenile records, sealed records, anything like that, and if her mother was involved in having them buried.”

“Okie dokie.” She types fast a few clicks later and, “Wow. I’ve found a couple of things, most of them cited as isolated incidents and common behavior among children, but one sticks out, November 23rd, 1999, the same year Judge Walsh resigned from her post.”

“She give any reason why?” You inquire.

“Nope.”

“Alright, thanks, Garcia.”

“Anytime.”

You relay the information, “The divorce happened the next year,” JJ mumbles, “let’s see if we can get those records open.”

November 23rd, 1999. April K. Walsh attended a camping trip near Lake Michigan; during a scavenger hunt, one of April’s buddies - Sam Goodwin - was found face down in the waters; the leading theory was Sam had gotten distracted and veered off the trail, with little experience swimming, Sam may have slipped into the water, panicked then subsequently drowned. The children had been paired into groups of three; the third child, Emma Chavez, had insisted that April had done it, and one detective had shot in the dark - months of investigation, and it looked like April would be facing time in a juvenile detention facility.

“What juvenile detention facility did she get sent to?” Gideon asks.

“None; close to the trial, the whole case fell apart; the next year, Judge Walsh resigned from her post and got a divorce.”

“Phone calls won’t cut it,” Hotch states, “we need her parents down here now.”

Joshua Walsh - now a retired surgeon- stayed close to Lake Michigan after the divorce and never remarried. Sofia Phillips - previously Sofia Walsh, post-divorce, she moved to Vermont, remarried, and had two more children before returning to work as a judge in a more minor position. Both refused to look each other in the eye; Joshua appeared more saddened, while Sofia was irritated. 

“I’m sure you have a good reason for dragging me all the way here,” Sofia grumbled.

You knew very little of Sofia Phillips, but from what you could gauge, she held herself higher than others and regarded the investigation with about as much regard as buying the wrong flavor of juice.

“Yes, ma’am, we wanted to ask about your daughter, April,” Hotch replied.

“April? Please, I don’t have a daughter called April anymore.”

Joshua scoffed, “Yes, you do, April Kennedy Walsh,” he turned to her, pulling out his wallet with shaky hands; he riffled through it before holding a picture in her face. “She had your eyes, remember?”

“Yes, I also remember her being dead to me, Joshua,” Sofia responds, glancing away. “She was always troubled. I tried to be a good mother, but sometimes you just can’t beat that attitude out of them.” She crosses one leg over the other, “I thank god I was blessed with two wonderful children after her, kind, obedient, nothing like April.”

“Hypocrite much? Where do you think she got it from, huh?”

Sofia rolls her eyes and glances at Hotch, “Are we finished now? My son has a recital in a few hours.” Hotch nods, and she leaves without a second glance; Joshua stays seated, shaking his head with a sigh.

“April…she’s not a bad kid…just lost. Sofia and I didn’t expect to have kids that early…I mean, we coped, but our jobs….” He looks at the photo again, “I tried as best as I could to be there, but Sofia…I wish I did better."

Joshua reluctantly recounts the event of November 23rd, 1999, alongside his divorce and any other moments before and after that point. The Appalachian Mountains had been Joshua’s dream destination, Sofia, to no surprise, had constantly been vocal about instilling the appropriate life goals in April - high grades, top careers, appropriate connections. The stores chosen all had qualities Sofia had cited as detestable, with Pennsylvania’s first Goodwill reminding her too much of her least favorite architecture - brutalist architecture. So going off that, the next Goodwill would have to be similar in style as well. This new detail leads to a few counties over.

April Walsh doesn’t fight when caught; appearing exhausted, the only other emotion she shows is a mix of relief and joy when she sees Mr. Walsh again, but it’s brief. She sits without prompting, crosses a leg over the other, and makes her only demand, “I’d like to speak to my father—”

“Give us Hayden,” Hotch counters.

“Who? Oh, the retail worker,” she scoffs, “he’s perfectly safe, tied and unconscious in room 345, Liberty Hotel. Now, can I please talk to my father?” Hotch nods, leaving for Hayden with everyone but Gideon and Reid. Hayden is unharmed, drowsy, and confused when he awakes.

You slump into your seat on the airplane, Spencer sits by you, and you lean your head against his shoulder. “No one wake me up for anything,” Derek mumbles across from you, lying across two seats to nap. 

“You look bored, cookie.” Spencer glances over at you; the others on the plane have either gone to sleep or relaxed in their seats.

“Maybe, but I’m not sure there’s much to do in an airplane.”

“We could play a game —not that kind,” you remark; he’d raised his eyebrows, and a light blush had dusted his cheeks, “we can do that at a later date, Dr. Reid. Right now, I was thinking of something like the ABC game.”

“ABC game?”

You sit up, “On long car rides, my grandma loved to play it; we choose a topic or theme and go through the alphabet. Say the theme was food, I’d say apricot; then you’d say bread; we can narrow down themes like food to fruits or vegetables.” 

“Ooh, that sounds interesting; ok, what’s the theme?” he asks, turning towards you.

“We can stick with food; it’s pretty easy and fun for a first-timer,” you reply, “We’ve got apricot and bread down, so, C, carrot cake.”

“Ok, donut.”

“Éclair.”

“French onion soup.”

You breeze through the first round, and Spencer picks the next theme - countries - which you manage through a quarter of before landing; you carry on while on the tarmac and finish just before leaving for home. It’s late afternoon in Quantico; Spencer bumps his hand against yours as you walk, smiling when you hold his hand in response. Paperwork is easy enough, and once done, you collectively sigh in relief when no other case comes up. It’s not night yet, and hearing everyone else make plans or detail what they have in mind when they leave has Spencer debating on whether to have that second date now.

“Thinking hard?” You ask, laughing when he comes out of his thoughts to find you standing close to him.

“Uh, yeah,” he says, “do you…uh…can we have that second date now? I know this great Indian restaurant, it’s a bit out of the way, but it has very good chicken tandoori.”

“Sure, lead the way.”

The restaurant is nice, getting there just half an hour after it opens at 5:00 PM; there’s plenty of space to choose from; Spencer leads you to his favorite seat by the fish tank. It’s a nice date; Spencer finds his legs close to yours after you split the bill, leaving just after seven. “Did you like it?”

“Loved it,” you respond. “You sure know how to treat a man, sweetheart.”

Spencer tugs at your arm, smiling into the kiss you give him. “Goodnight, love.”

Spencer is soft.

It’s what you repeatedly note - when he smiles, leans into your space for a kiss, or drums your fingers along your hands. When he snuffles in his sleep, a moment before waking up, “Morning….” he’d mumble before dozing off for a few odd minutes. 

“Good morning to you, too,” you kiss his forehead, and he mumbles something else, snuggling deeper into your arms. “What happened to the early bird catches the worm, hmm?”

“....not a bird…no worms please….” he mumbles.

“Hmm,” you respond, rubbing circles along his back, “How about pancakes? I think I might have some blueberries or chocolate chips,” you muse; Spencer peeks up at you. “Ah, I see I’ve piqued your interest.” You laugh as Spencer ponders between the comfort of the bed and the prospect of pancakes. You leave him to his decision-making; by the time you’ve made the batter, Spencer shuffles from the bedroom - donning one of your hoodies and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Spencer hugs you from the back and pecks the space between your shoulder blades, “Süss,” he says. 

You purse your lips and glance over your shoulder at him, “Süss? Come on; I thought you liked a challenge?” You switch off the stove and turn to face him, “German. Sweet.”

“I wasn’t looking for a challenge today,” he clarifies, “I was stating a fact.” He points at you as he repeats the word. “Mein süss.” 

You grin, “I’d say you’re the sweet one, cookie.” He scrunches his nose, “Mein süßer Keks.” You wink when he stares at you, “You’re not the only one with a knack for languages.” He sticks out his tongue, leaving the kitchen with the pancakes; you join him at the dining table - he sits with his back to the window, soaking in the sun like a cat.

“Fun fact, chocolate chips melt best at temperatures between 104 °F and 113 °F; the melting process starts at 90 °F when the chips’ cocoa butter starts to heat. For milk and white chocolate chips, the temperature shouldn’t exceed 115 °F; for dark chocolate, it’s 120 °F; otherwise, the chocolate will burn.”

You nod, “Which flavor’s your favorite?”

“The classic chips, made from small chunks of sweetened chocolate, I like to eat them in winter when there’s less chance for them to melt in the bag,” he answers. “What about you?”

“I don’t mind, but I suppose I prefer the classic ones too.” The pancakes were long gone by now, and coffees almost finished; Spencer had come previously to visit but never slept over before, “How’d you sleep?” You ask, placing your arm around his shoulders.

“Good,” he yawns, “you’re really comfortable.” You chuckle as Spencer snuggles closer, “Can we go back to bed?” He asks with another yawn.

“Hmm,” you stand, “you head on in; I’ll take care of the dishes.” He nods, shuffling back to the bedroom; you gather the dishes, rinse off the food, place them in the dishwasher, and leave them to clean. You find Spencer nestled comfortably under the blankets; when you slide in alongside him, he latches onto you, not fully asleep and not fully lucid. You comb your fingers through his hair, and when his breath evens out, you close your own eyes and doze off.

End Note:

This turned out a lot longer than I thought it would, and also, not that I think it needs mentioning, but this and the previous fic takes place somewhere in season one. Stay Hydrated.

[liminalmemories21]

omg the pillow fort prompt was the cutest thing I’m obsessed 🥰🥰🥰 If you’re still taking prompts:

“Shut up, that was one time”

Belated, I know. And, also counting this as WIP Wednesdsay because I'm pretty sure some version of this is ending up in Knave-4.

(tagged by @three-drink-amy, @strandnreyes, @carlos-in-glasses, @paperstorm, @carlos-tk, @chicgeekgirl89, @freneticfloetry, @sanjuwrites, @jesuisici33, and @iboatedhere - thank you!)

TK is loose and easy tonight, relaxed now that his final papers have been turned in and he's stuffed full of two slices of Liz's lasagna and the cheesecake Carlos had made last night.  He can't stop looking at him, and he's being obvious and he doesn't care.  There's nobody at this table who doesn't know how in love he is with TK.

He's not really paying attention to the conversation, idly twisting his wine glass with the last few sips still left in it, but his attention is caught when TK sits up, protesting, laughing.  "One time.  One time, Liz.  And how do you even know about it?  Doesn't the university administration have better things to do with their time than gossip about the love lives of the students?"

She's sitting up and laughing, and Matt quirks an eyebrow at her.  "Share with the class?"

"TK played Cyrano for one of the kids in his class."

TK kicks her under the table.  "Saying I played Cyrano implies I ended up with the girl."

Carlos hides a smile behind his glass of wine.  "Was the girl in question a nice 15th C marble sculpture?  Or, ooh, one of those art deco tables held up by like a wood nymph?"

TK throws his napkin at him.  "I mean, I wouldn't say no to one of those."  He grins at Carlos and lets their fingers tangle.  'You keep saying we need a new coffee table."  Carlos leans back and enjoys the warmth of the wine and the teasing and the easy intimacy of touch.

Matt clears his throat.  "Cyrano?"

TK drags his attention back to Matt.  "Right.  Two kids in my study group.  Classic boy likes girl.  Girl likes boy.  Neither one of them can string a sentence together when they're in the same place at the same time.  I helped them out."  He shakes his head.  "What are they teaching kids these days if they don't know how to flirt."

Matt gives him a dry look.  "The kids these days?  You're 28."

TK points a finger at him. "Exactly."

Carlos tugs on his hand.  "So, are you implying that you got taught how to flirt?  Was that part of the liberal New York sex ed curriculum we keep hearing about?"

[themuseumwithoutwalls]

MWW Artwork of the Day (4/17/24) Late Medieval England (14th-15th c.) Resurrection (c. 1450-90) Alabaster sculpture, with traces of paint, 49.5 x 27.9 x 5.9 cm. Walters Art Museum, Baltimore MD

In the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, alabaster was a popular sculptural material in England, where it was in plentiful supply. This dramatic panel showing the moment of Christ's Resurrection exemplifies the detail and texture that could be achieved by sculptors working in alabaster. In this exquisitely refined carving, even very shallow relief can suggest a decided sense of depth by depicting overlapping forms. The soldiers in front are in front of the open tomb, which is in front of other sleeping soldiers. The figure of the risen Christ is carved with such subtlety that even the fabric of his mantle appears soft. As Christ steps from the tomb, his foot rests so gently on the sleeping soldier that he doesn't even wake.

[superwings-cultural]

Architecture and Monuments: Great Sphinx of Giza - Egypt

The Great Sphinx of Giza is a limestonestatue of a reclining sphinx, a mythical creature with the head of a human and the body of a lion. Facing directly from west to east, it stands on the Giza Plateau on the west bank of the Nile in Giza, Egypt.

The Sphinx is the oldest known monumental sculpture in Egypt and one of the most recognizable statues in the world. The archaeological evidence suggests that it was created by ancient Egyptians of the Old Kingdom during the reign of Khafre (c. 2558–2532 BC).

A special feature of the Sphinx is its actual lack of a nose. The circumstances surrounding it about being broken off are uncertain, but close inspection suggests a deliberate act using rods or chisels. Contrary to a popular myth, it was not broken off by cannonfire from Napoleon's troops during his 1798 Egyptian campaign. Its absence is in fact depicted in artwork predating Napoleon and referred to in descriptions by the 15th-century historian al-Maqrīzī.

It is unknown how the name of the Sphinx came to be, due to propably multiples origins, for example of its creator of the Old Kingdom, as the Sphinx temple, enclosure, and possibly the Sphinx itself was not completed at the time, and thus cultural material was limited. In the New Kingdom, the Sphinx was revered as the solar deity Hor-em-akhet (English: "Horus of the Horizon"; Hellenized: Harmachis)

The commonly used name "Sphinx" was given to it in classical antiquity, about 2,000 years after the commonly accepted date of its construction by reference to a Greek mythological beast with the head of a woman, a falcon, a cat, or a sheep and the body of a lion with the wings of an eagle (although, like most Egyptian sphinxes, the Great Sphinx has a man's head and no wings). The English word sphinx comes from the ancient Greek "Σφίγξ" (transliterated: sphinx) apparently from the verb σφίγγω (transliterated: sphingo / English: to squeeze), after the Greek sphinx who strangled anyone who failed to answer her riddle.

Over the centuries, writers and scholars have recorded their impressions and reactions upon seeing the Sphinx. The vast majority were concerned with a general description, often including a mixture of science, romance and mystique.

From the 16th to the 19th centuries, European observers described the Sphinx having the face, neck and breast of a woman. Examples included Johannes Helferich (1579), George Sandys (1615), Johann Michael Vansleb (1677), and some others following it. Most early Western images were book illustrations in print form, elaborated by a professional engraver from either previous images available or some original drawing or sketch supplied by an author, and usually now lost. Seven years after visiting Giza, André Thévet (Cosmographie de Levant, 1556) described the Sphinx as "the head of a colossus, caused to be made by Isis, daughter of Inachus, then so beloved of Jupiter". He, or his artist and engraver, pictured it as a curly-haired monster with a grassy dog collar. Athanasius Kircher, however, depicted the Sphinx as a Roman statue

[realcatalina]

More mystery with portraits of Hasburgs

These two paintings are located in different museums, but are believed to be once a part. Currently they are labelled currently as Philip of Austria and Margaret of Austria, 1483, by Master of Legend of Magdalene.

And it's kind of a problem. Because at least the boy doesn't look like early work of this artist at all! Not even remotely close.

So other artists have been suggested instead, and for example the girl's has been most recently labelled as by Pierre Coustain.

Which doesn't make any sense either. Because while this was court artist in Burgundy, he specialized in making coat of arms and flags, sculptures etc. Like we can speculate on Pierre Coustain's involvement in these portraits(figures by Pieter van Coninxloo):

But only about the coats of arms. This guy wasn't portraitist.

...And you know me, I am nitpicker. I my motto is:

Never trust period label...because often times they are added centuries later.

So of course I checked the labels. On first glance, they seem as very genuine. This form of letters was around in 15 and 16th century.

...So I needed some help reading it, but luckily on wikipedia it was in description of paintings.

Girl's:

Gedaen Int Jaer ons here 1483 tsinen v en Jaerre/FAT LAN M.IIII.C.IIII.XX ET TROIS QUE LORS AUOIT TROIS ANS ET TROIS MOIS)

This was created in 1483 and she is 3 years and 3 months old.

(Very specific...oddly so.)

Gedaen Int Jaer ons here 1483 tsinen v en Jaerre / Fat Lan m. III c. IIII xx. z trois ou ve. an de son eage.

Once again it says year 1483, but that Philip is 3 or 5 years old.

Like how does nobody question this? You cannot be specific to month with girl, and not know how old the boy was!

Unless the label is not original at all! And likely not even done in 15th century. Because at those days, labels weren't really popular. They took off mainly in 16th century. And given the amount of mistakes I doubt Margaret nor Philip were even alive when this occured.

Because have they been, somebody would take greater care in getting it correct!

(And, If the text is from much later it is damn well-made.)

So if text is untrust-worthy, the dating of 1483 is also untrust-worthy, and then we cannot even be sure it is Philip or Margaret!

And though the boy doesn't fit Master of Legend's early work, he damn sure looks very alike to his late work! (1510-1527)

But then these kids cannot be royals from Netherlands. This is not its fashion from 16th century. We have portraits of Philip's kids raised in Netherlands, we know what they wore.

And while, yes the girl's hat looks bit like 1460-1470s male hats worn in netherlands, girls didn't wore this I checked. And given Netherlands were already back then northern capital of painters. It's very unlikely it wouldn't appear in art of that time from that country.

So possibly these are foreign royalty. But whom?

Well, artist started working around 1480/1490 and stopped about 1527. (Assuming we have correct artist.)

And the boy wears order of golden fleece around his neck. And clearly he is not adult. List of knights of Order of Golden fleece is on wikipedia and it includes when people got it and their birth year.

So finding people who got it before age of 15 in corrrect timeframe wasn't that hard.

Six candidates:

Philip of Austria (who it is currently identified as)

Henry VIII

Charles V

Ferdinand I, Holy Roman Emperor

Louis II, King of Bohemia and Hungary

Philibert of Chalon

But at age of 14 and 13, Henry VIII and Philibert are simply too old...to be depicted here. And Louis II's sister was older than he. And we know what Charles and his sisters raised in Netherlands wore.

Thus if not Philip and Margaret, the only other valiable option is Ferdinand and Catherine of Austria.

(if the list of candidates was complete...)

And it just so happens that if you put correct dimensions to these(in cm), and put them in order of birth, they don't look so weird...

Potentially this might have once been full set of siblings.

Done firstly around 1507(first four)

and rest after 1515, when Ferdinand became the member of the order.

...And if we compare what the girl wears with spanish fashion, then at least in examples from 1490s similiar hats were popular(not as much raised, but we always see them on adults. Maybe then the raise is not so high, and traluscent veils of this kind even much later(those are with cofia de tranzado)...this shape of neckline, also very popular in Spain at least around turn of the century.

In my research into iberian fashion, i didn't go that much into fashion after 1505(not in debt) and it's not ideal that I point to examples about 20 years prior to when I think it might be.

But it is a possibility, and would explain the resemblence.

...

However then we have to assume 2 more possibilities.

A) the list of knights of order of fleece was not complete...and we're missing candidates...and then once again, where does the fashion point us?...Spain in case of girl...

B) But what if the boy and girl don't belong together?

What if they just had same background(popular in Burgundian/Netherlandish court from 1450? to about 1507)

and same dimensions(by chance, or they were later cut to make them same dimensions)?

(C)what if both options? L)ist wasn't complete and boy and girl don't belong together?

Well, the boys who got orders of golden fleeces as kids were usually royalty, with whom Hasburgs had friendly relationship.

Only other option already not covered, would be either Christian II of Denmark-but he was made member in 1519-so he is on the list, as adult...

or John, Prince of Asturias and Girona. He married Margaret of Austria, in 1497 and died that same year. And Joanna married Philip of Austria in 1496.

We know Margaret's portraits were created in early to mid 1490s, likely to be sent to Spain, and probably Philip's also.

But what if Spanish send reply? And Hasburgs send their own painter, to paint Spanish royal children? That would also explain resemblence to Joanna's children. Because boy would have to be her brother, and girl Joanna herself.

Again, the boy seems to be later work of the master, but it was a workshop. It is possible one of its member simply became more prominent later in workshop's lifetime and it happened to be him who was sent to paint the boy.

And i cannot get further than this. Dendrology would be helpful here.

However as these portraits have year upon them, the institutions who own them think they have the correct date already. We can only hope they decide to test it anyway.

[art-that-fucks-you-up-tournament]

SET FOUR - ROUND ONE - MATCH THREE

"Khajuraho Group of Monuments" (c. 885-1000) / "Ranakpur Jain Temple" (1437 - commissioned by Darna Shah)

KHAJURAHO GROUP OF MONUMENTS: alright so obviously the carvings of these temple floor me. they are absolutely stunning and intricate!!!

although khajuraho has much more to it than its erotic nature the thing i love about this picture are these particular carvings. they give a small glimpse of how sex wasnt a stigma back then.

espl because now sex is something that is considered to 'make you stray further from god', it is big deal that it was depicted on temples! (and obviously it shouldnt be)“Even the Kama (sex) scenes, when seen in combination of sculptures that precede and follow, depict the spiritual themes such as moksha (the transcendent state attained as a result of being released from the cycle of rebirth.). This state which is “like a man and woman in close embrace” is a symbol of moksa, final release or reunion of two principles, the essence (Purusha) and the nature (Prakriti). Source” (anonymous)

RANAKPUR JAIN TEMPLE: speechless really. the carving holy shit. holy fucking shit. again, you cant portray the grand splendour of an entire place in a single picture, but i think this one describes it the best. i am utterly in awe. espl. espl. because they were built in 15th century. cant imagine how much hard work went into building these! (anonymous)

("Khajuraho Group of Monuments" was a group of 85 Hindu and Jain temples, spread over 20 sq km (7.7 sq mi); today, only about 25 temples have survived, spread over six sq km (2.3 sq mi). They are located in Chhatarpur, Madhya Pradesh, India.

"Ranakpur Jain Temple" is a temple located in Ranakpur, Rajasthan, India. It is made of white marble and covers area over 4800 sq ft. It was built with the aid of Rana Khumba, ruler of Mewar.)

[irish-dress-history]

Identifying J.C. Walker's Illustrations

An Historical Essay on the Dress of the Ancient and Modern Irish by Joseph Cooper Walker published in 1788 was the first major work published on Irish dress history. Due to a combination of the limited information known at the time, and his erroneous assumption that Irish dress didn't change for the entirety of the Middle ages, Walker got a lot of things wrong, so his writing isn't cited much anymore. Some of his illustrations, however, are still used.

Because Walker lived before the invention of photography, he used drawings of historical Irish art created by colleagues and family to illustrate his book. I decided to track down the original works of art to see how Walker's drawings compared. I am resorting these into roughly chronological order, because Walker's lack of regard for chronology makes my head hurt.

The High Crosses, 9-10th centuries:

Ireland's high crosses have unfortunately lost a lot of their detail due to erosion, making these hard to identify. Sadly, the breeches with a fitted knee-band and the skirt gathered to a waistband look more Late Medieval or Early Modern than they do Early Medieval, so I don't think these are reliable depictions of the lost detail.

Plate 1: Figure 1 (right) is supposed to be from the Clonmacnoise Cross of Scripture. At a guess, it's based off the guard on the right arresting Jesus:

Figures 2 and 3 are based off a high cross fragment at Old Kilcullen, County Kildare. Unfortunately, I don't think the original carving survived. I initially blamed its loss on the United Irishmen, but this drawing from 1889 convinced me that acid rain was the real culprit.

Plate 5 Figure 1 is supposed to be a king from Muiredach's cross. The closest image I could find on the actual cross is Cain killing Able:

Ironically, Cain and Able have more embellishment on their clothes than the "king" based off of them.

12th century:

Plate 1 Figure 5 is from the capital of an arch at St. Saviour's Priory in Glendalough, County Wicklow. The drawing gives the impression that the sides of the head were shaved and the hair was deliberately curled at the end. In the actual carving, the hair is slicked back at the sides and interlaced with adjacent design elements. These are stylistic elements of Irish Romanesque art and not intended to be a realistic depiction of an Irish hairstyle.

13th century:

Plate 4 is the late 13th century effigy of Felim O'Connor, Dominican Priory of St. Mary, Roscommon with a frontal of gallowglasses added in the 15th c.

This drawing is pretty accurate, although the gallowglasses are lacking some details like their quilted cloth gambesons.

photos by Edwin Rae

I cannot find a good photo of Felim O'Connor's effigy, but Conor O'Brien's contemporary effigy at Corcomroe Abbey, County Clare wears the same style of clothing.

13-14th century?

Plate 6 is based on a sculpture from Athassel Priory in County Tipperary. I can't find a solid date for this one. Athassel Priory was built c1200 and then burnt and rebuilt twice before it was dissolved in 1541. The clothing style of the carving makes me think it's from the earlier part of this time frame.

The biggest thing the drawing gets wrong is the gender. This is a man, not a woman. The "necklace pendent" on his chest might have actually been a brooch holding his cloak, but the sculpture is now too damaged to tell. The drape of fabric at his side, which Walker calls a train, is actually the edge of his cloak. The drawing also leaves out the way his become more fitted below the elbow.

15th century:

Plate 3 Figures 1-3 are based off a painting at Knockmoy Abbey.

I'm pretty sure those are houppelandes on the left and center figures. This continental fashion influence shows up elsewhere in 15th c. Ireland (Dunlevy 1989). The drawing omits the massive houppelande sleeves and shortens their hems.

The painting is now badly weather and difficult to see. This is a more accurate drawing published in 1904. Recent photograph here

Plate 5 figure 2 and plate 1 figure 6 come from a 15th c. grave at the Dominican Friary, in Strade, County Mayo.

Figure 2 is a decent representation, although it adds a center front slit to the leine which I don't think is actually there. Figure 6 gets the silhouette of the cotehardie a bit wrong and omits the hanging belt accessories, but its greatest crime is that it makes the top of the hood look like a separate object. Walker actually misidenifies it as a Scotch bonnet.

photo again by Edwin Rae

Plate 7 is Anne Plunket's effigy at St. Mary's Church, Howth, County Dublin. This drawing is decent, though the sleeves are a bit too slim. The cross necklace and belt decorations are no longer visible on the effigy.

photos by MVP Edwin Rae

Plate 8 figures 1 and 2 are both based on a late 15th c. tomb at the New Abbey in Kilcullen, County Kildare. Figure 1 is based off a carving which is probably depicting St. Brigid, which makes her headwear the wimple of an abbess, not a laywoman's kerchief Walker. The drawing, however, omits her telltale crozier. The drawing makes it look like she has cuffed sleeves, but that is actually just the folds of her brat draped over her arm. It also shows her as wearing 2 layers of skirts when she is actually wearing a single lower garment with a hem circumference so large that it puddles at her feet.

Figure 2 is based of Margaret Janico's effigy. The effigy is now too badly eroded to make out details, but it originally probably looked very similar to Margaret Janico's other effigy in St. Audoen's Church, Dublin. Unlike Anne Plunket's effigy above, the necklace and belt decorations are still faintly visible on the Dublin effigy. Figure 2 distorts the construction of the gown and headwear. This drawing makes the bodice of the gown look heavily stiffened or even boned like 17th c. stays. The houppelande on the effigy does not have stiffening in it.

effigy of Margaret Janico and husband at St. Audoen's Church, Dublin (photos, once again, by my man Edwin)

The headpiece in the drawing looks like a linen kerchief wound up to form a turban with a decorated fillet tied over it. The headpiece on the effigy is probably actually a truncated hennin with a veil pinned to it like the one in this mid-15th c Burgundian painting by Petrus Christus.

16th century:

Plate 9 is based on Katherine Molloy's early 16th c. effigy at Fertagh Church, in County Kilkenny. According to the artist's notes it was in "nearly perfect" condition at the time. I wish he had put more detail into the drawing.

(photo also by Edwin Rae)

17th century:

Plate 10 is based on The Taking of the Earl of Ormond in anno 1600. Walker's artist clearly fabricated some detail here, falsely giving the impression that triús were ankle-length. We know from extant examples from Kilcommon, Dungiven, and Killery that triús actually extended past the ankle, covering part of the wearer's foot (Dunlevy 1989, Henshall et al 1961).

Plate 11 was taken from the tomb of Sir Gerald Aylmer (died 1634) and Juliana Nugent. Sadly, it appears to have been destroyed in the early 19th c, so I have no further pictures of it. The clothing looks to me like typical 1630s English fashion with loose gowns over doublets, falling bands, and linen cuffs.

? Century

Plate 1 figure 4 is apparently from Old Kilcullen, County Kildare. I am not sure what this is based on. I haven't seen any Santa hats at Old Kilcullen. Or anywhere else in Medieval Ireland.

Bibliography:

Dunlevy, Mairead (1989). Dress in Ireland. B. T. Batsford LTD, London. 

Henshall, Audrey, Seaby, Wilfred A., Lucas, A. T., Smith, A. G., and Connor, A. (1961). The Dungiven Costume. Ulster Journal of Archaeology, 24/25, 119-142. https://www.jstor.org/stable/20627382

Edwin Rae's invaluable collection of photographs of Late Medieval Irish art accessed via TARA.

[jeannepompadour]

Tomb of Isabel de Portugal, Queen of Castille in Cartuja de Miraflores, Burgos;  Made by Gil de Siloé, 1490s

[scotianostra]

September 15th is St Mirren/Mirrin Day the patron saint of Paisley.

Saint Mirin or Mirren, was a Catholic monk and missionary from Ireland and is also known as Mirren of Benchor (now called Bangor), Merinus, Merryn and Meadhrán are other spellings of the name.

The patron saint of the town Paisley, he was the founder of a religious community which grew to become Paisley Abbey. The shrine of this saint in the abbey became a centre of pilgrimage.  Much of what is known about Mirin is difficult to separate from fable, however it is believed that he was of noble Irish birth.

Legend has it that he went on a mission to seek out the King of Ireland in a quest to gain permission to spread his faith through his kingdom,, bt the King refused to see him.

Mirin, thus slighted, was said to have prayed to God that the king might feel his wife’s labour pangs, her time being near. The legend continues that, just as St Mirin had prayed, the king fell ill and roared in pain for three days and nights. In desperation the king sought out Mirin and granted him all he wished, including the right to go out and preach the Gospel to the men of his camp. In response to these concessions St Mirin prayed on his behalf and he was freed from his pain.

Thereafter he was appointed to the west of Scotland and, after a long and difficult journey, arrived where the town of Paisley now stands. He preached and worked many miracles beside the banks of the Mirin burn, converting many to Christianity and set up his first church at Seedhill, to this day still a populous part of the town , in the Parish that bears his name,  St Mirin’s Croft.

In various charters and Papal Bulls Mirin is referred to as The glorious confessor, Saint Mirin. His image was engraved on the seal of the Abbey, depicting him in the vestments of a bishop. Around the seal was inscribed the prayer O Mirin, pray for your servants. In King James IV’s Charter of 1488 raising Paisley to the status of burgh of barony, one of the reasons cited was “the singular respect we have for the glorious confessor, Saint Mirin”.

There is a chapel within Paisley Abbey, dedicated to Mirin containing a sculptured stone frieze depicting the life of the saint. The R C St Mirin’s Cathedral is also named in his honour. St Mirren F.C., in Paisley, is named after him. The St Mirin Burn flows into the White Cart Water close to the town centre. He is also commemorated by St Mirren Street which links Paisley Cross to Causeyside Street.

Further afield the island of Inchmurrin (i.e. Mirin’s Island) in Loch Lomond and a farm called Knockmurran (i.e. Mirin’s Hill) near Coylton in Ayrshire are named after him. St Mirin’s Well can be found near Kilsyth in Stirlingshire.

A bronze statue, as senen in the pic, by Norman Galbraith was unveiled on the saint’s day, 15th September 2007, by  the Provost of Renfrewshire Councillor Celia Lawson.

The third pic is a door with depiction of St Mirin and St Columba in Paisley Abbey.

[feelingravityspull]

although painting is my first love, I think sculpture is a higher art form, in a way. Sculpture, especially in the round, is kind of the closest thing humans can come to divine creation. There's a hallowed and magical quality to them. Anyway, here are two that I've been thinking about recently:

This incredible Mexica figure from the 15th century, apparently of the goddess Coatlicue.

And this Olmec jadeite mask, c. 900-600 BC. There are many similar examples, which are always remarkable and often haunting. This one in particular looks like someone you might see on the subway

[arthistoryanimalia]

For #WorldElephantDay 🐘:

Dancing Ganesha sculptures at The Walters Art Museum:

1. India (Bihar), 1st half 11th c., stone (Muscovite biotite schist)

2. India (Uttar Pradesh), 9th-10th c., sandstone

3. Nepal, 15th-16th c., gilded copper alloy

[coolancientstuff]

The stone sculptures of Esie, Kwara State, Nigeria, c. 12th to 15th century.

The Yoruba Ìgbómìnà town of Esie, in the southwestern quadrant of Nigeria, is home to over 1000 steatite or soapstone sculptures of men, women and animals. One of the largest collections of historical stone sculptures south of the Sahara. They are usually seated or kneeling figures with elaborate headdresses, adorned with bracelets and necklaces, and some figures are seen holding agricultural tools, musical instruments or weapons. Most figures are male, though some of the female figures carry curved blades, possibly indicating political or spiritual power.

Not much is known about these pieces. They were first discovered by the ancestors of the current inhabitants of Esie in the 18th century when they settled the town, but only gained international attention from 1933 onwards, when they were noticed by H. G. Ramshaw in a local forest grove, still kept in honor by the people of Esie.

One of the more interesting local traditions states that these figures were once settlers from another part of the Yoruba country who planned a rebellion against the ruler of Esie. As a result, the local god had them turned to stone as punishment. Scholarly and archaeological investigations into the Esie sculptures however contend that they belonged to an earlier, poorly attested Yoruba kingdom in the area. Associated finds have been dated between the 12th and 15th centuries.

source: The African History Channel on FB

[themuseumwithoutwalls]

MWW Artwork of the Day (10/30/23) Boleslaw Cybis (Polish, 1895-1957) Portrait of a Young Lady with a Cigarette (c. 1928) Oil on panel, 77.5 x 56.5 cm. Private Collection

Boleslaw Cybis was a Polish painter, sculptor, and muralist. Cybis' paintings, sculptures, and murals won him recognition in Paris, Geneva, Munich, Frankfurt, Moscow, St. Petersburg, Bucharest and Vienna. From 1926 to 1930 he was fascinated by the peasants of the country side whom he likened to 15th century medieval portraits of the masters. Over the next four years he painted a series of peasant portraits now in various museum collections. During the 1930s his work first appeared by invitation in fine art exhibits and museums in the United States, where Studio Magazine (Contemporary… Masters," April 1934) found his paintings "a striking example… reminiscent of Leonardo da Vinci."