#Greed created the dust bowl?!

[shady-tavern]

Preview for "Heartless" the May Patreon Short Story

Everyone knew of the mage who had lost his heart. Some said he had given it to a beautiful but cruel witch, who had kept it since as a trophy. Others said he had been so cruel the beautiful witch had taken it in a bid to stop him and he haunted the lands ever since, lost and searching for what had been stolen. 

Others once again said he had gambled it away in the hopes of never again fearing the touch of death and decay. 

The legend changed depending on the warning people wanted to impart, but everyone agreed on one thing: Anyone who was able to return the mage's heart was owed a wish. A powerful one at that, one that could even bring back the dead. Or so they said.

Many people had tried to retrieve the heart over the years. Older folk who desired to regain their youth, young lovers who wanted to stay together forever and grieving parents who wanted their slain children back. Even slighted nobles who wished to marry a king to climb in station and show up their rivals along with hopeful peasants who wanted to enrich their lives had given it a try.

The yearning for eternal beauty, for invincibility, the desire to grow rich and famous, love and greed, despair and dreams, all those and more had driven people to seek out the mage.

He wasn't terribly hard to find if one knew how to, people said. One needed a cloudless night during a full moon, creating a circle made of acorns and cornflowers. A bowl would be placed in four spots, facing the four points of the compass. 

A bowl of milk facing the south, a bowl of salted mushrooms to the east, a bowl of white bones to the north and to the west stood a bowl filled with iron shavings.

Once those things were in place, one had to sing the mage's song. A lament that could not be messed up even once, nor was the singer allowed to stutter. The smallest misstep meant the mage would not deign to appear.

But once the ritual was completed, he'd be there, ethereal and beautiful. And very much heartless. Some people said his eyes were empty and black like coals, others said he was relentlessly hungry, a near mindless beast driven to try and get back what he had lost.

In stories he was either cold and uncaring or a moaning beast willing to tear people apart. Some said he ripped out their hearts when they failed to get him his back and that he stuffed theirs into his chest instead, only for the hearts to turn to dust in his hands. 

Others said he was quite satisfied with his lot in life, that he liked not feeling anything, walking in eternal coldness. That it made him sharp and impossible to trick and that his magic had become all the more powerful for it.

Whatever truth there may be to these stories, one thing remained unchanged: He had no heart. No one had been able to give it back to him, no matter how hard they had tried.

You could admit that you liked hearing stories about something as wondrous and yet as far removed from your life as a heartless mage. Your life was quiet and gentle and you liked it that way. While you loved stories of kings and queens and magical conquests, of evil slain and good prevailing, of innocent people rescued, such things had no place in your day to day life.

You were the daughter of a warm, frugal man who had married a reasonably rich merchant, a woman who gave freely and happily and both of them had raised you with plenty of love and care. You had wanted for nothing when they filled the house with laughter and taught you everything they could with gentle hands.

When you had decided to become a bee keeper and candle maker, they had helped you fulfill your dream, asking around until they had found the perfect little home and plot of land for you to pay off, since you refused their money. They had already given you enough.

"What would you ask for, if you got the mage's heart?" your best friend asked when she visited you one afternoon to pick up the produce from your bees, a jar of honey and two candles you had made for her.

You paused for a long moment, looking outside the window to your flower fields and the approaching heavy rain clouds. 

"I'd probably just give it back to him," you answered and at her incredulous look, you couldn't help but shrug. "I'm happy, right now there is nothing I'd ask for."

Happiness wasn't around every day of course. You had weathered many a storm, but largely you were, indeed, quite content with life. You had learned that even if dark times came, you could fight through them until you reached the light again. You could and would do it as many times as necessary.

"I'd probably ask for all the riches I could think of," your friend mused. "I'd love to go to the big city and attend the balls, you know? Dancing with dashing noblemen and women and just..." 

She sighed wistfully, adding, "Just imagine it. Glittering jewel chandeliers and all those elegant, courteous people. No one farting at the dinner table or anything like that."

You couldn't help but laugh as you handed over the candles she had asked for. You had carved some delicate flowers along the outside per her request and her eyes lit up when she saw your handiwork. 

"Why not marry the mage then? He should be able to give you all that with how sought after and highly regarded his kind are," you asked as she put everything into her basket.

"Mages are dangerous," she answered with a shake of her head. "I won't ever tangle with that. Besides, I heard that mages only appear beautiful at first. The longer you look at them, the stranger they become. I don't know. I don't think I could have a husband that would look less and less human every day."

That was reasonable enough, you supposed, if such things were true. 

Your friend frowned a little and sighed, "Not that I'd ever get a chance to find his heart in the first place, if the legend is even true. Old Brenna swears up and down that she saw him once, but then again she also claims to have seen bog bies and little gnomes. Still, wouldn't it be nice to not be stuck here?"

"I quite like it here," you said and cast a glance outside the window. "And if you don't plan to either walk through the rain or stay for dinner you should probably get going."

Your friend leaned forward to peer up at the sky as well and made a face. "Damn, you're right. Alright, I'll see you again tomorrow?"

"You're welcome anytime," you reassured her and she left with a fond smile, telling you to drop by for dinner at her place sometime soon.

A minute after she left the first drop hit your window, followed by many more. You took a moment to stand there and close your eyes, listening to the pitter patter of rain coming down on your cozy little home. What a lovely sound.

You cleaned up around the house for a bit, listening to the calming, steady fall of rain, before you peered out the window again. It was getting late enough that you should lock the chickens in their coop so they'd be safe during the night.

Grabbing your wool cloak to stay safe from the rain and getting barefoot into your boots since you couldn't be bothered to put on socks, you stepped outside. The smell of rain and warm earth welcomed you as you walked down the small path to the coop, lightly hopping from one broad, flat stone to the next.

You hummed to yourself and before you knew it, you were singing the mage's song as you checked if the chickens were already safely inside their coop. 

For all the joy, all the joy it brought to me

My heart longs, oh it longs to be set free

All's fair in love and war they say

But when your words, oh your sweet words wither and decay

My heart drowned, oh it drowned in sorrow's flood

So set me free, set me free so I can choose to land

In someone's kind and gentle hand

You weren't too worried about summoning the mage with just his song, considering the plethora of things one had to do on top of that – if he indeed existed. You doubted he'd even hear you singing in the rain in the first place.

If you were being honest, you quite liked the song, depending on your mood, you could sing it quickly and cheerfully or slowly and with melancholy. Today you sang it light and sweet with an undertone of joy, fitting to the good mood the gentle rain had brought as you locked in your chickens.

It took you a moment to notice the steady, muffled sound of footsteps and when you turned around, curious and surprised, you stilled, the song dying on your lips.

You knew it was the mage with just a glance. He stood tall and with elegant poise, his long, flowing robes were black as night and raven-dark embroidery shimmered on it in the dim, evening light falling through thick clouds.

His missing heart was easy to see, a ring of light glowing softly on his chest, reminding you of the solar eclipse you had seen once.

His long, pale hair fell down his back like a wave of shimmering silver and his lashes were dark and thick, his eyes a soft lavender. His eyes were the only bits of true color on him. 

Even the jewelry he was decked in was pale. The delicate silver crown with it's glittering gems, the earrings on his pointy ears, the rings on his elegant fingers and the necklace around his throat, they all looked like they were woven out of starlight and white gold.

"Good evening," the mage said and your friend had been right about one thing, the longer you looked at him, the less human he appeared.

His lavender eyes held a shine that was deeper and stranger than even the oldest woods, his nails seemed just a tad too hard and long, hinting at claws, his hair too shimmering and silver and his clothes were made of no fabric you had ever seen before. 

He seemed utterly out of place, standing among the flower fields that surrounded this side of your home, rain gently drumming down.

"I had not expected to hear my song tonight," he said, soft spoken and polite, but you weren't fooled. Mages were dangerous and you had been raised with a good head on your shoulders. "Especially without any of the usual provisions. Are you to make a bid for my heart?"

"Oh, my apologies," you hurried to say, nervously gripping your woolen cloak as you peered at him past the rim of your hood. "I merely like your song, I had not intended to call upon you. I honestly thought it wouldn't work without all the other demands being fulfilled."

His head tipped slightly, the fine, delicate chain on one ear glittering with the movement. "I see. Now that I did appear anyway, do you intend to make a bid for my heart?"

You wondered if it was painful for him, to wander around without one. If he was caught in a perpetual search for the next person who could gain it and trade it back for a wish. If maybe, between being summoned by songs, he was hunting for his heart himself.

"No," you answered honestly. You personally did not much enjoy lying in the first place, it only caused problems sooner or later. "I have no desire for your heart."

He blinked once and there was a pause, as though he was carefully choosing his words. "And what about a wish?"

You couldn't help but gesture all around you. "I like my life, I like this place and my work here and those I love are happy and healthy enough." Could wishes even make people truly happy? Or were they tricks, like fae deals? "There is little I want and the things I do desire I intend to get on my own."

He seemed surprised at your answer and then he was smiling and everything about him seemed just a tad brighter, from the glow on his chest to the glittering jewelry and the silver shine of his hair.

"A fair answer from a fair heart, I am glad to hear as much," he said, a touch of real warmth entering his voice. "My apologies for disturbing you then. Have a good evening."

He offered a polite little bow and was about to move on when you realized that he was getting more drenched with every moment. And while he was a mage, you did feel a bit bad that you had summoned him into this weather unintentionally.

"Would you like to come in?" you asked and he paused, glancing at you. "At least until the bad weather is over. I've been told I make pretty good food, too."

He blinked and water trailed over his crow, dripping off at the edges and he inclined his head in agreement, appearing somewhat curios.

You led the way back to your little home and held the door open for him. Toeing off your shoes and as he stepped inside, you fetched a linen towel for him and handed him the slippers you kept around for when you had visitors with bigger feet.

"Thank you for your hospitality," he said and you felt the brief shiver of magic in the air that dried him entirely as he refused the towel with a rather kind smile.

You left him to look around your open living room and kitchen as you started to boil water for a pot of tea. He was quite respectful of your space, glancing at some paintings you kept around and your little knickknacks on display.

He did pause when he saw your work, the candles you had finished today, some already packaged to be sent out tomorrow. The temple had a regular order that you fulfilled and they were due another delivery.

"You are quite skilled," he said and gestured at the candles you had carved and painted for market day. "May I?"

"Go ahead," you told him, digging out the fancy tea your mother had gifted you as a house warming gift.

By the time the tea was done, the mage had selected a few candles and upon inquiring for their prices, paid for them.

"May I put in an order?" he asked. "Some of my spellwork requires candles. Would you be willing to make enchanted ones as well, so long as I bring you the necessary components?"

"Can I even enchant candles? I'm about as ordinary as they come," you answered and the mage's face lit up.

To your surprise, the ensuing conversation and discussion about magic and magical properties that some things inherently possessed and how ordinary people could use them as well, was quite fun and interesting.

Before you knew it, you had served dinner and the mage had complimented you for the good food and you kept talking as the rain kept falling outside, moving into your living room to get comfortable on the two seats you had placed near the small fireplace.

You genuinely had so much fun you even managed to make the mage laugh, the jewelry on his ears tinkling softly as he was gripped by mirth. You were sad to see him go when the thrum of rain stopped at last.

"Feel free to visit whenever you want," you said with a smile as you accompanied him to the door. "I'm here most days and it can get quite lonely." You loved your friends and family, but they had their own lives and their own responsibilities and relationships to care for. You didn't get to see them as often as you'd like.

"I understand that all too well," the mage said with a little smile, melancholic and soft, that told you he indeed knew what it was like. "I will take you up on that offer. Ah, may I tell my friends and acquaintances about you as well? They have been looking for a good candle supplier for some time."

"Oh, of course, though, maybe give me some time to figure out how to create enchanted candles," you answered and he obligingly bowed his head a little.

As he left, he did so with a last smile, his jewelry shimmering as though freshly polished and his hair as fine as spun silver coated in starlight. He was gone just like that, melting into the dark of night as though he had become one with it.

Closing the door you went and cleaned up and finished packing away the candles for the next day. As you went to bed, you couldn't help but think that he didn't seem to be in pain, at the very least.

Still, you couldn't imagine that being heartless was very pleasant.

*.*.*

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Thank you all so much for your support, it makes it an absolute joy to keep writing stories!

[regalfairytaleacademy]

Other pixies?!

All created from barrettes seven demons given to their guardians. It was created with pixie dust, jewelries, and flower powder.

They resides in Devildom and the new village build up at the middle of the forest.

All are energetic, humorous, mischievous, extremely curious and always seeking new experiences. Of course, they have their own personality on different (same as RFA pixies).

➽──────────────❥

Introduction

Hera (Pride)

Unforgiven any apologies from people after what they done.

Selfishness and vanity.

Actual personally caring but hid it behind a stern face.

Likes bubbles and soap foam.

Taming dreadful creatures suchlike dragons and cerberus.

Got the honor of the general by her leadership.

Born with the power of dark and light.

≿━━━━ ༺❀༻ ━━━━≾

Fortuna (Greed)

Always being fooled by Lyssa's pranks.

Strong desire for have a peaceful and happy life with wealth.

Dislikes to have fights, loud noises and nonsense.

Has ability to talking with corvus and sharing her feelings to them.

Portrayed as a peacemaker of the pixie village. Although, she is the only one have been blamed as an useless pixie.

≿━━━━ ༺❀༻ ━━━━≾

Nemesis (Envy)

Introverted, timid, meek and sweetest pixie.

Submissive in conservations with strangers.

Sometimes she actually really rude and dominant.

Described as the most sensitive one in the village.

Has ability to change her tail to legs, but prefer in the tail. In the mermaid form, she staying in the fish bowl (more bigger than Henry 2's).

≿━━━━ ༺❀༻ ━━━━≾

Lyssa (Wrath)

Highly intelligent, outgoing, grace and calm.

Got the title of the prankster in the village, as she likes to make practical jokes on others, mostly Fortuna.

Own the powers of unicorn, she has healing properties that bring people back from the brink of death.

She can talking to animals, especially the forest fellows she live with.

Enjoys using her vivid imagination and sharing stories with people.

Her art style was mentioned as slightly whimsical and brilliant.

Developed a sense of anger issues, yet often.

≿━━━━ ༺❀༻ ━━━━≾

Aphrodite (Lust)

Sweet, narcissistic and a pacifist.

Dedicated to give people a matchmaking and into romance.

Has perfect fluency and understanding of French, as it is the language of love.

Love adorable things such as plushies, clothes and accessories, especially it is color of pink and white with heart patterns.

As the pacifist, she is calm and does not do battle, yet, thinks of a more peaceful way.

Has a limited magic is that wherever she walked, all magnificent flowers would bloom. Also she strew numerous rose petals into a dust.

≿━━━━ ༺❀༻ ━━━━≾

Theia (Glutton)

Passionately to foods, especially sweets.

Skilled in cooking.

Sisterly side, determined and always ready to rush into battle to help her friends.

Has ability of super strength.

Afraid of dentist.

Dislikes to have a bad breath and didn't brushing teeth.

Hate rotten and smelly foods.

≿━━━━ ༺❀༻ ━━━━≾

Nyx (Sloth)

Likes to daydreaming and sleeping.

Hate to being interrupted her sleep.

Loyal in her relationship - her neighbors and friends.

Considered for a crybaby.

If fully awake, she would stay up all night making pillows and cushions. Sometimes she would go out and stargaze.

Has ability to make stars and send to the night sky.

➽──────────────❥

Monarch

Talia

Princess of Pixie Village in Devildom and the younger sister of Queen Harmonia. The position of pixie assistant to Diavolo (the current demon king). Sometimes helping him complete the forms together, while taking care of her village.

≿━━━━ ༺❀༻ ━━━━≾

She was nicknamed "Princess of Death" due to the powers she was given, and she was never afraid of death. She can see the souls of the dead, mostly animals.

Also earn the alias for "Pixie of Comedians", as she likes to act any characters and write down dramatic yet funny stories on the books.

Described as elegant and charming.

Highly intelligent and has a sense of humor.

Knowledgeable about the rarest plants.

Vocalizing and singing is the only thing she do for spare time. Oftens visit forest friends with Lyssa.

The only one who can mend Diavolo's relationship with Satan easily.

Likes to open tea parties, plants, and mother nature.

Hate people who never care about the other especially to animals, perverts and the world is under the cruelty.

[lumierecharity]

LENT - TIME TO SPRING CLEAN

SINCE EARLY DAYS CHRISTIANS HAVE OBSERVED WITH GREAT DEVOTION THE TIME OF OUR LORD'S PASSION, DEATH AND RESURRECTION. It is the custom of the Church to prepare for this by a season of penitence and self-denial. Ashes reminder of mortality Lent begins with a service for Ash Wednesday. The ceremony of the ashes is a sign of repentance and a symbol of mortality.    It is customary, but not essential, to produce the ashes by burning the palm crosses of the previous year. This may be done before the service.   The ashes should be placed in a bowl on or near the communion table.

By placing ashes on our foreheads at the beginning of Lent, we simply remember the truth that we are not destined to live eternally on earth.   Rather we are pilgrims going through time on earth, preparatory to living eternally in our final destination of heaven, in the company of our Father, God.

  So as the symbolic ash is placed upon our foreheads, we pray,  "Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return".   In other words, our human bodies, created from earthly substances, are destined to return to the earth once our souls, our spirits have moved on.

  This is not tragedy, but reality. It is practical to remind ourselves annually that our personal beings comprise far more than our external bodies.   We are eternal spirits which can choose where we wish to spend our eternity - with God, or in the absence of God's Presence.

  It is good eternal planning and common sense to take steady care of our spirits, because good life and behaviour according to the values of Jesus Christ assist us to access the eternal kingdom of heaven.

Benefit Lenten practices have great benefit for each person's life, body, mind and spirit.    If we undertake Lent with sincerity and devotion, we undertake spring cleaning which purifies metaphysical clutter which accumulate in our souls.

Purification Serious commitment to purification of our inner selves leads us to identify and deal with addictions, obsessions and compulsive behaviour.

  Lent is the time to confront bad habits into which we have drifted [by means of meditation and reflection], deal with them [inner resolve and purification], make reparation for the sin we have committed through these faults which have knock-on effect on other people [repentance and penitence] and create new habits in keeping with Christ's values [renewal].

Confronting bad habits There are various forms of bad habits, including the following seven sins - Envy, or jealousy - Gluttony, or over eating and drinking to the extent that harm to the body is caused - Greed or avarice; wanting far more than can personally be used, sometimes to the detriment of others in need - Lust, or pursuance of others because of their physical attraction, without true love or care for their feelings or lives - Pride, or undue belief in personal superiority without humility before God - Sloth, or laziness and refusal to carry out the tasks which are personal duty - Wrath, or undue bad temper and emotional or physical violence towards others

Original sin Due to the original sin which the fall of early humanity fell into, we are often subject to an inner force which moves us into the wrong direction.   Lent helps us to refocus our spiritual compass in the right direction again - our true north being the Laws of God [the Ten Commandments] and the values of Jesus Christ [laid out clearly in the four Gospels, or New Testament].

Grace of God Continual effort is necessary to control the inner movement of our ego, and allow the presence of the grace of God to inspire and direct our thoughts, desires and actions.

Strength Lent gives us the opportunity to practise disciplining our spiritual and mental muscles so that, when we experience temptation to do wrong, we are able to resist and do what is right.

Fasting One way in which Christians strengthen is through fasting and abstinence.   By control of physical appetite by denying untoward greed for food and drink, we are strengthening our spiritual selves.   Fasting does not mean self-denial to the point of anorexia. That defeats the purpose, as this places the health of the body at risk.   As in all things, moderation is the key.

Practice self-control by giving up some food or drink that is personally loved, but not essential for bodily health and functioning.   Here is where reflection is important. If alcohol has become so personally important that alcoholism is impending, this is a definite area of fasting to be addressed.   If food has become so personally important that health and mobility is being compromised, this is an area which needs to be addressed.

Another form of fasting is in the words we speak. If we use the Name of the Lord in vain, we need to address the commandment to keep the Name of God holy.   If we use blasphemy or curses in every sentence, this is a habit which needs to be addressed as not in keeping with true holiness.   If we use sarcasm, sneers, undue gossip or unkind words towards others, fasting from unkindness and the unkind word needs to be addressed.

Prayer Spend time in prayer. Ask Jesus Christ what to address in your personal life. Then draw up a Lenten programme to address your challenges.

  Each person's challenge is different. We cannot make one plan for all. Also, what may be a personal issue one year may be fully resolved the next, with a new challenge.

  Christ will help you to know which spiritual road to walk, when you spend time in prayer.

Positive actions Make a resolution to do some good deed to help another in some way. So Lent is not simply a time of emotional and spiritual spring-cleaning, but also a time of carrying out good deeds in the Name of the Lord.

Spiritual reading Good spiritual reading is a great aid to a life of steady direction and holiness. There is no greater aid than to read the New Testament.   The life of Jesus Christ gives us the template which we can follow when making difficult decisions.   "What would Jesus do", is often seen on bracelets - WWJD. Indeed.   We learn what Jesus would do, when we read what He did.   So spend at least ten minutes a day in reading the Word of God.   You can increase the time as you draw from the joy that is the Life of Jesus Christ on our earth.

Good luck with your Lent!

Ten Commandments, Exodus 20; 1-17 1. I am the Lord your God. You shall have no other gods before me. 2. You shall not misuse the Name of the Lord your God in vain 3. Keep the sabbath day holy 4. Honor your father and your mother 5. You shall not murder 6. You shall not commit adultery 7. You shall not steal 8. You shall not give false testimony against your neighbour 9. You shall not covet your neighbour's house 10. You shall not covet anything that is your neighbour's

The four Gospels Available in the great resource https://ebible.org/

With thanks to ebible.org

[essays-for-breakfast]

A Song to Forget All Trouble

Kiane Week Day Four: Reign/Daily Life

With each sunrise, another problem awaited Diane. Or, for the sake of accuracy, a mountain of problems. Ruling an entire clan was one thing, but the management of two clans who had spent to majority of three millennia with scornful looks and cold shoulders had more in common with a wrestling match against a Tyrant Dragon. With arms tied behind the back. Giants and Fairies alike always found one little annoyance to blow out of proportion and add to the list of matters Diane needed to discuss and solve with the parties involved.

The quarrel for a resting spot on one of the Fairy King’s Forest’s countless clearings took her half a day to settle because both the Giant and the opposing group of Fairies claimed to have arrived there first. Around noon, Diane ordered the squabblers to find other places to sleep and opened the clearing to a horde of Giant children. At the end of their play session, a rugged crater disfigured the landscape, and smashed golem heads roasted in the sun. No one wanted to rest there anymore.

Every trampled flowerbed and every earth-made pillar became a file on Diane’s metaphorical desk. Fairies liked to boast about their inability to understand concepts like possession and greed, but when someone asked them to share their precious forest with outsiders, they crossed their arms and jutted their chins faster than one could turn over a leaf.

Even if their king asked them.

But the Giants didn’t cover themselves in glory with their behavior either. Their daily fighting tournaments, these days held for sport rather than war training, flattened entire areas on a regular basis. And while the Giants toasted to their displays of power, the present Fairies had little to laugh about. To them, a tree was a lifeform in the same way as a deer or a chaffinch. To a Giant, a tree was a resource for weapons and sometimes a javelin in their ego games.

Drole had assured that Diane would make for the ideal queen to their people. If only he had mentioned the massif of hurdles on the road of leadership.

Daylight was fading, and Diane more stumbled than walked towards the Great Tree. She hawked, but the lump in her throat sat on her voice like a fat, ugly toad. The avalanche of irritated ‘what?’ the near-deaf Giant had spat in her direction continued to ring in her ears. He had built a stone damn to turn the southern river into his private bathing lake. The shrubs and flowers he had put underwater by proxy had concerned him no more than a change in the clouds above. Diane had repeated and rerepeated herself in explaining the problem he had created, but more than another ‘what?’ hadn’t come out of him. A wonder the old man still lived – with the philosophy of the Giants in mind, a useless member of the pack went to bed each night in expectation of a slit throat.

Diane rolled her shoulders to shake away these gloomy thoughts. The merger had its upsides too. She just needed to remind herself of them once in a while.

The stench of fire, mingled with the alluring but precarious aromas of roasted boar hit her before the massive shape of the Great Tree came into view. Not again. Diane darted into the bushes, a string of curses she had picked up from Ban on her lips.

In most cases, even the most traditionalist of Fairies looked past the campfires the Giants gathered around to exchange war stories. But when these parties involved hunted wildlife – deer, boars, or the sinfully delicious cranes found in the western lake district of the forest –, a war declaration already waved between the trees by the time King or Diane could intervene.

Along with the cackling of the fire, the sound of laughter and, strangest of all, music reached Diane’s ear as she zigzagged through the pine trunks. The out of place sound almost made her stumble. Had the wind solely carried the beat of drums, she would have continued her race without a second thought. But a small orchestra of pipes and flutes gave the rhythmic pounding a melody unlike anything she had ever heard in Megadoza. If any Giant knew how to craft and play a flute, Matrona had to have hid them in the catacombs underneath the rock city during Diane’s two hundred years of training there.

A final sprint brought Diane to the clearing from where the smell of meat and the sound of music originated. But instead of a pack of drunk and bellowing Giants, the last sunrays reflected from the faces of Fairies and Giants alike. And instead of accusations hurled at the other clan, laughter tied both sides together.

Above the open fire, spits laden with meat turned while a soup happily bubbled in an oversized iron cauldron. A handful of lanterns in the shape of tulips adorned the trees around. While not as golden or luxurious as the festivities Diane had visited in Liones, the clearing showed all the makings of a celebration, complete with a colorful assembly of guests.

King hovered in the middle of the illusive scenery and conversed with Matrona and Ritho, an older Giant whose passion lay with war before any other activity. All three of them were smiling.

Diane maltreated her temple with her knuckles, but the illusion refused to collapse and return to the dust of her imagination. What had happened in her absence that all conflicts between Giants and Fairies had smoothened into a pretty party with a pretty ribbon to complete the present? Had Bartra Liones foreseen the end of the world for tomorrow? Another explanation failed to arise out of the muddle of her thoughts.

She stared, and she stood, unable to move or comprehend what was playing out before her eyes.

King noticed Diane, nodded to Matrona and Ritho, and floated towards her with two minimalistic flaps of his wings.

He lifted the paralyzed fingers of her right hand with visible effort, and beamed at her. “I’m glad you made it. Gerheade was almost on her way to catch you at the Great Tree. I wasn’t sure when you would return, but I guess everything worked out better than expected.”

“I don’t understand. Did I miss something?”

A shade of pink darkened his cheeks. The orange hues of the fire emphasized the effect. “Didn’t I tell you? We want to celebrate the merger between the Fairy and Giant Clan. We got lucky with the weather tonight, otherwise the open fire might have given us some headaches. Oh, and Happy Anniversary!”

Diane blinked. “It’s… been a year already?! I thought… two weeks, a month at most…”

“If Gerheade hadn’t reminded me, I would have said the same, but here we are. A year later. I’m so proud of what we’ve built here. What you started when you told me about your idea with the merger – no one other than you could have even considered to bridge the cleft between our two clans. All because no one sees the good in others like you do.” King inhaled, and his tiny hands increased their grip around Diane’s fingers. “I love you so much. None of this would have been possible without you.”

His touch and the warmth of his smile melted all troubles and anxiousness of the day away. Nothing else mattered, and if Diane had to put up with a thousand near-deaf Giants to earn this one moment with the one she loved, she would jump into the fray without hesitation.

She dragged him closer, intoxicated by the flowery scent of his skin, lost in his amber eyes, and cradled by all the compliments he showered her with, too generous to be true, but oh, so earnest. The cleft disappeared, and Diane covered King’s face with a kiss.

Before he could pass out from a lack of oxygen, Diane pulled back. She smiled at his expression, a perfect replica of the dazzled Fairy boy before he had grown his wings.

“I love you too, King. And thank you for the party. It’s perfect. When did you have time to organize all this anyway?”

“Oh, that? I really didn’t do much in terms of setting up the location or preparing the meat. The others deserve all your thanks for the hard work. I just flew around a little to find some special ingredients for the stew.”

Diane laughed. “Still a delivery boy at heart, I see. The Captain must have drilled this chore especially deep into your head.”

“I guess he discovered this hidden talent of mine before even I could see it.”

More and more Giants and Fairies followed the sound of the flutes, and soon the clearing disappeared in a crowd of feet and wings. Bowls of two different sizes wandered through the guests, a stew of turnips and roots and chanterelle. While nothing between Purgatory and the Sky Temple could match Ban’s carrot soup, Diane gulped down three helpings in record time, mesmerized by the earthy taste. And she would have asked for an additional portion, if King hadn’t handed her a spit with her favorite type of roasted pork.

The smell of fat made her mouth watery. “Can I marry you a second time?”

“I would marry you every single day, every single year ahead of us, if I could,” King said.

Diane grinned and for the next few minutes, she was too occupied with chewing to talk. The chatter of the people around her blurred into a pleasant carpet of sound. This was what she had always envisioned: Giants and Fairies united in spite of their stupid differences and their arguments, an exchange of words and food to the soft crackle of a campfire. And her and King in the middle of it all, finally side by side after all this time.

The stars stood high up in the sky, a million more than humans could ever spot in Liones or Camelot. From time to time, they winked as if to congratulate King and Diane on what they had accomplished. He leaned against her knee while she stroked the filigree ornamentations of his wings. A shudder rocked him whenever Diane found a new nerve to stimulate.

Neither of them felt the need to disturb the moment with words.

Then a single flute raised its voice above the conversations, a new tune, almost melancholic at first. A panpipe picked up where its companion had left of and gave the melody a merry spin. The flautist enticed a few more notes out of his instrument, and for a moment it and the panpipe seemed to fight a musical battle for the tone of their sonata. But then they fell into harmony, drums and chimes and a fiddle joined in, and soon the entire orchestra played a tarantella to invite the crowd to a dance.

King jerked up. After he had risen into the air, he bowed and extended a hand towards Diane. Sparks from the campfire reflected in his eyes.  “May I have this dance?”

Diane took his hand with a smile. “You may.”

One with the music and the rhythm of nature, King and Diane spun around the fire. Her feet bopped and arched, and he mimicked her moves midair. One moment she pulled him so close their noses almost touched, the next he guided her into another twirl and their fingers parted to finish a sequence with two claps. Other pairs skipped onto the dance floor; Matrona and Zalpa, Ende and Gerheade, and ever so rarely a Giant and Fairy together.

Although her steps lead her astray sometimes, Diane always found King’s eyes in the crowd. Never more than a pirouette away, still in sync with her. The music chased them in circles, two claps of the hands, and another sequence of hops and taps and spins. The odors of cooking fat and sweat from a multitude of dancers got to Diane’s head. Dizziness hijacked her senses until nothing but the next step filled her mind.

With two final claps, the dance ended. King hovered mere inches away from her, guided there by his own doing or a by a smile of fortune. His chest heaved up and down and the many turns had tousled his hair. But his grin was the incarnation of pure joy, brighter than the fire and the firmament.

Their kiss held more force this time, driven by the passion of the dance and heated by the blood rushing into both their heads. The touch of his skin and the flowery taste of his lips replaced the world around Diane, and they were one.

Yes, the merger caused them trouble every day, and Giants and Fairies alike strained their patience with a hellish desire to convince them to give up.

But King and Diane proved time and time again that beauty lay in the union between their clans. They fought for what they believed in, and they continued to push the boundaries of what Chaos’ creations were meant to achieve.

For moments like this.

[athewriter]

Two Contrasting Descriptive Pieces I did for my English Assignment

The task was to create two, contrasting descriptive pieces of the same place/ area before and after a “storm”- focusing on movement, light and sound. I chose the same forest scene before and after the happenings of war, developing the five senses: sight, touch, smell, hearing, taste.

WARNINGS: tw: DEATH, tw: GORE, tw: VIOLENCE

DESCRIPTIVE PIECE #1

Jean meticulously stepped through the fragile foliage, skin tingling with every wet lick of the leaves against his hands. Trees towered over him, giant, looming walls of thick, bulging trunks and solid blankets of all shades of green. So densely packed together that not even the most ambitious streaks of light could penetrate through- the realm beneath the canopy forsaken to everlasting shadows. One would think this brought rigid cold and barren lands, yet the humid heat that threatened to overpower him suggested otherwise.

               Morning dew dotted the deep veins of broad, wide leaves, soaking it as it ran in lazy rivulets down their faces. A weighted, gentle caress that held them down, forcing the leaves to droop and pave a terraced path to the net of underbrush below. The water pooled on a bed of knee-high, prickly bushes and plants, forming little ponds in depressions woven by their hands.

               The earth ceased to exist, seeming to descend far below the projecting, twisted roots that crawled through the underbrush like thick, course, brown snakes. The stench of freshly turned and wet soil and rotting organic material was its only alibi. So soft and malleable, carpeted by threads of wax and thorns, that it gave way an inch or so with every calculated step of hardened leather boots.

               A cacophony of bird calls and songs grew stronger, evidence that life could exist in this alien world, rang above his head: the staccato trill of Piqinins, the warbling harmony of Caterwals, and the sickly-sweet chirps of the Nightwing. A choir of vastly different symphonies that clashed and fought over each other, their volume near-deafening amongst the ear-piercing siren of the cicada. An ear-bleeding performance for the lustful and greedy patrolling mere metres below their perch.

               And, if choice be, he could look up and see the royal blues, obnoxious yellows, and striking, deep purples of feathers dancing. That is if the birds themselves wanted to be seen, preferring the cavernous alcoves tucked into the intersections of branches.

               In the centre of all this chaos was a small, circular clearing. Trees fell away to allow for light to spill in, casting a warm glow over wild, untamed grass of a rich green that rivalled that of an emerald. A single flower, no taller than his waist, grew in the middle. Resembling a jellyfish, bottlebrush like tendrils of flaming reds and vibrant oranges hung from its bowl-shaped cap, barely grazing the floor with its frayed ends. Starting tightly coiled, the tendrils slowly unravelled from the cap, unfurling and unwinding like a spring being stretched; despite their rough and bristled appearance, they were velvety to the touch and silkier than the finest satin.

               A honey sweet, sickening odour permeated the air, mixing with the lingering scents of precipitation and wet soil. It left a strong, bittersweet taste of iron in his mouth, drying his tongue out as it stuck to the roof of his mouth. As innocent as it looked, the Royal Adonis’s fumes could kill even the most fearsome of creatures, making it the perfect snack for a passing Drongo*. With an extensive, and very much alive root system, it’s a deadly beauty with hidden, malignant tendencies- Killing you softly as it steals your every last breath.

*Drongo: a creature that brings death wherever it goes, taking to the scent of decay and freshly spilt blood like a cat to catnip.

(548 words)

DESCRIPTIVE PIECE #2

Snow kissed the ground. Little snowflakes of ash drifted, directionless against the inky black of the sky, and settled on barren bows. Those that danced through landed in the deep gashes that wounded the earth.

Jean stood in the middle of it, observing the destruction with blank, grey eyes, shifting his weight as ash dusted the worn leather of his boots.

Thick cracks ran deep, splitting the hardened ground as thinner, shallow cracks webbed its surface. No longer could it hold life, but how would it? As solid as cement, the blackened, bare ground was impenetrable to even the sharpest swords or the strongest hammer; they would shatter into a million pieces on impact, spraying iron, silver, and blood.

Blood. Too much had bled into the land, staining it with the greed, the cruelty of men, and the damned innocent. Crimson brown, it seeped through ancient roots systems, tainting the once crystalline, white red.

               No guardians loomed over him, no protective walls of green and brown. And no loyal, gentle lick of the playful, entangling foliage. Instead, charred sticks of charcoal stood in their place. Broken and beaten, they swayed in the chilly evening breeze of June, so brittle they would crumble with the slightest touch. No longer did the water hold them captive, having no hands to shackle, nobody to bend. Just a hollow, empty shell of what used to be. The blankets of ash were their only comfort.

               The haunting wails of the Rose-breasted Grosbeak sent cold dread through him, ghostly fingers tracing up the back of his spine. Its song of death a beautiful, yet fear-inducing melody: a warbling howl that gradually rose in volume before suddenly dropping into curt, cut off choked squawks. Thick, white plumage sat on a low hanging branch, a black hood stretching down to its wings as large, glazed eyes stared at him with unnerving intelligence. If he didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought the rosy patch on its breast coincidently matched its red-lipped, bone-white beak.

               Beneath it, a carcass lay- a dier*, to be precise. Its intimidating, golden antlers lay broken by its massive head, deep, fleshy holes peering up at the sky as ash sprinkled its beige, near white, fur. That was its only identifiable feature. A horrific gash stretched across its belly, skin peeled back off of bone as organs slopped into a pool of deep red. Glistening intestines, kidneys, and bladder were pulled from the opening of torn flesh and skin, littered with numerous scratches and tears that matched the ones on its head. On closer inspection, Jean could see the claw marks that shredded the flesh of its neck, jagged, messy bite marks piercing the thick hide of its flank. More blood coated its mouth and splattered on the ground, an indication of ravenous, vicious feasting whilst its heart still beat.

               The stench of iron and death was strong on his tongue, lingering heavily in the air around the duo. A sickening mix of pungent, rotting flesh and freshly shed blood was something one did not scrub out so easily.

*Dier: closely resembles what you would call a deer except has a beige-golden hide with massive, majestic horns of presumed medicinal benefit.

               (519 words)

[lordeasriel]

mary, asriel & xaphania: the triple symbolism of john milton’s satan figure

We discussed recently in the discord server about how Mary, Xaphania and Asriel are all symbols/metaphors/examples of Satan in Paradise Lost and it really has been nagging me because it’s beautiful in many ways, so I’m gonna rant about that today. I will stretch this to the limit though, be warned, plus feel free to add your thoughts to this mess (i have too much free time on weekends). Under the cut because it is long and it’s also very incoherent, might I add.

Pullman himself can’t seem to settle on who is the actual Satan figure, he goes for Asriel or Xaphania, mostly: Asriel is the metaphorical one, Xaphania is quite the literal (being the figure of the Angel who Rebelled against God, which is Lucifer). Mary isn’t that obvious, but she represents the Serpent, which in the Bible is another one of Satan’s multiple forms.

Asriel, by being the most illusive of them all, is the representation of secrecy and ultimate indignation, a man wrong by the Church. Like the Fallen Angels in the original story, his demise is cause by his Lust, for like the Angels he has watched a daughter of men (Marisa) and fell in love. He was stripped of what made him who he was (his wealth and influence, as opposed to the Angels cast out, who were stripped of their holiness and their higher rank). He fights for freedom, of course, but he is motivated, essentially, by revenge.

Mary is knowledgeable and curious; her role in the story is to play the Serpent, like with Adam and Eve. In the Bible, we are taught that Eve is tempted by the Serpent to take on the forbidden fruit: that simple gesture is both about Greed and Gluttony (or so the Bible tries to teach); however, the Serpent is not offering the fruit as a means of property or food, she offers it as an object to receive Knowledge from. And this is Mary. She is the Scientist and the figure of Experience, she values knowledge and wisdom, and she passes those on to Lyra and Will, and also the Mulefa. The Angels from the original story had a vast array of knowledge that were spread through humankind once they fell (most of their knowledge is considered demonic or evil by the original story, as if they were meant to spread bad things to humans, but you know how it is)

Xaphania is the literal figure of the Rebel Angel. Satan, before being cast out for his disobedience, was an angel and a highly regarded one. Some stories speak that Lucifer refused to acknowledge humanity as equals to angels and fought God because of it, some say that the angels that watched over humanity fell in love with human women (how very straight of them!) and were cast out because of the sin of Lust. The point is that Lucifer was loved the most by God, and was considered to be the most beautiful of the angels. One way or the other, he was cast out for defiance; Xaphania, upon discovering the truth, confronted the Authority and was exiled from the Kingdom of Heaven. She represents the ultimate figure of a warrior, depending on how you read it, she could be the sin of Wrath or Envy.

Pullman opens the first book with a passage from Paradise Lost by John Milton (a poem that essentially inspired the whole book) and something that stood out to me recently is this:

(...) Into this wild Abyss the wary Fiend/ Stood on the brink of Hell and looked a while,/ Pondering his voyage... (Paradise Lost, John Milton)

This is easily my favourite part of the excerpt and Pullman doesn’t use the last lines:  “for no narrow frith/ He had to cross.”, but I want to talk about it all the same because it fits with rest of the analysis quite well. In TSK, chapter 12, Mary talks to the Angels and is guided to the window to complete her role as the Serpent and this what Pullman wrote:

“Mary Malone pushed back the chair and stood up, trembling. She pressed her fingers to her temples and discovered the electrodes still attached to her skin. She took them off absently. She might have doubted what she had done, and what she could still see on the screen, but she had passed in the last half-hour or so beyond doubt and belief altogether. Something had happened, and she was galvanized.” (The Subtle Knife, page 251, Knopf Edition).

“Up until this moment she had been moving on pent-up excitement, but as got out of her car in the dark of the small hours and found he night cool and silent and still all around her, she felt a definite lurch of aprehension. Suppose she was dreaming? Suppose it was all some elaborate joke?

Well, it was too late to worry about that. She was committed. She lifted out the rucksack she’d often taken on camping journeys in Scotland and the Alps, and reflected that at least she knew how to survive out of doors; if worst came to worst, she could always run away, take to the hills...”  (The Subtle Knife, page 252, Knopf Edition).

“Deceive the Guardian  — well, she’d done that; but she had no idea what she would find inside the tent. She was prepared for some sort of archaelogical dig; for a dead body; for a meteorite. But nothing in her life or her dreams had prepared her for that square yard or so in midair, or for the silent sleeping city by the sea that she found when stepped through it.” (The Subtle Knife, page 254, Knopf Edition).

This is the beginning of her journey: “Into this wild Abyss (a world of Angels and worlds and Dust, all introduced to her out of a sudden) the wary Fiend (Mary, although believing in it, is constantly cautious about everything that is happening, she is a scientist after all, it is her role to question everything) stood on the brink of Hell (the university, now crowded with security under Boreal’s orders, a place to which she spent years confined to by her work and then the guarded tent, a place she is stuck with until her role is fulfilled) and looked a while (she pushes the chair and stares at the conversation she just had with Angels; she also stares, astonished, at the window, before going through it) pondering his voyage, for no narrow frith he had to cross. (In the second excerpt, Mary finally questions what she’s doing, but in the end, she proceeds with her journey, regardless of what await her.)”

Asriel’s take on the verses is fast and focused on one single point (that we see in the book, given he has no POV, he could have pondered his voyage the moment he sees the city in the Aurora). It’s on chapter 21 of Northern Lights:

Lyra’s father stood there, his powerful dark-eyed face at first fierce, triumphant, and eager; and the the color faded from it; his eyes widened in horror, as he recognized his daughter.

“No! No!” He staggered back and clutched at the mantelpiece. Lyra couldn’t move. (...) He seemed appalled; he kept shaking his head, he held up his hands as if to ward her off; she couldn’t believe his distress. (...) Their daemons [Roger’s and Lyra’s] fluttered out into the warmth, and after a moment Lord Asriel passed a hand acorss his brow and recovered slightly. The color began to return to his cheeks as he looked down at the two.”  (The Golden Compasss, page 364-365, Knopf Edition).

Asriel is already into this wild Abyss (also he is literally there, but shall we not discuss this? lmao)  that is multiple worlds and Dust business, so he watches, triumphant, as the last of his requirements arrive, but it’s Lyra. So he watches her, and loses his mind over it; his pondering is not exactly quiet as he yells at her for being there. He is completely out of his mind that she is his sacrifice; he thinks he is willing to pay any price for his journey, but Lyra makes his crossing much harder to accept. But when he sees Roger, he stops, calms down. “The wary Fiend, stood on the brink of Hell and looked a while”, this was likley the most emotional Asriel has ever felt lol and as he realises Roger is there, he ponders his next move (talking to Lyra, then proceeding with his journey).

He does not actually hesitate at the Bridge, except for his conversation with Mrs. Coulter, but once she says she won’t go with him, he touches Stelmaria, turns around and leaves. He has already accepted his journey.

Xaphania, as we know, is the original Rebel Angel, so we do not have her actual journey, but it’s possible to represent her through the actual poem, after all, she is Lucifer, she has stood on the brink of Hell and pondered her voyage (that of her war and that of when she gave consciouness to humankind and others).

The fallen angels story comes from The Book of Enoch (who, guess what? is that bitch Metatron) and it tells the story of how the angels rebelled against God, following Lucifer and how they were cast out for their sin of disobedience. However, in the book, Archangel Michael (also known as the First Angel) is the one who casts out the angels for their defiance.  Xaphania, essentially, fights the first angel because she finds out he has been lying about being the creator and she, as well as the others, are cast out by him.

I did some light research (cause 1. I refuse to read that book 2. It gets weird fast when you research this theme) and the biggest consensus I found was that "Their consciousness therefore “fell” to lower levels of vibration and awareness as they were, by cosmic law, “cast out into the earth” by Archangel Michael and his legions of good angels.”  (I found this on a spiritual site, so take “good angels” with a pinch of salt and by pinch, I mean the whole salt bowl). This matches Pullman’s own plot for Xaphania and the rebel angels, as she is the one who brought consciouness into the world, although she did so out of her own will.

One thing that stood out the most to me while reading about this, is that the angels in the Book of Enoch were forced to descend and exist as humans, creating what we refer to as Nephilim. When they fall, they do so as consciouness, and while Xaphania is the literal Satan figure, by being the physical angel, Asriel and Mary are human; I do not think they are angels, of course, but from a metaphorical point of view, to think of them as pieces of the Rebel Angel consciouness, once Xaphania fell, is quite beautiful.

Fun fact: while researching, I found out that Lucifer is a latin name for Venus when it shows itself on its morning appearances; Venus is associated often to women and the female in general, which makes Xaphania’s female shape quite interesting and not that outside of the original idea.

That are others instances where Asriel and Mary ponder their journeys, but these are the most important ones because they are the first time they do it. Funny enough, Asriel do not ponder at the Abyss lmao This is one messy text, but I hope you had fun if you read it all bye

[screechingtrashcalzonewombat]

"Apopalictic Astral Asending" Reavaluate disassociate my self worth...

The galaxies have birthed an uncontrollable being ....

I've feel as tho Ive seen myself split in two ..

Witch side do u wanna see if ur lucky I'll let you choose .

Cause in the end I loose..

One of hate one of love could both be from up above..

Or down below ...

I've began to show signs of delusions as half my mind goes an tells me it's only mild confusion. As my body fights my brain an heart to escape theys terrible illusions.

Yet the other half tries to start a fusion of body an mind an all the suddently my thoughts are no longer mine..

But a evil so Divine that its wound it's way threw time itself I've fealt the damage the energy dealt. I've yelped in anquish an pain been stuck for 7 long years in the rain with nothing to gain .. I can barely fathom to explain im not fully on earth I'm on another astral plane but i fear i flew out of my lane I've gone insane never wanted fame Ever fealt like bat man I mean oops Bruce Wayne. Nah fuck hes spoiled a wet rat infact I'm more like hulk duck when I'm near i wearly see I'm drowning inside my mind but no one can hear my dear I fear I've lost control again but cant compute I've been booted out of the system I've clawed hit an kicked to try to get to the top but i outta of known I've been ripped an thrown from my throne ive been shown what this beast can do but who woulda thought a demon bought my soul ..a jackal a goul.....you'll see me shift into numbness I suposse it was my own dumbness for being to open now cause of me my body an mind are broken an stole. as I weep an shutter an i try to speak but only stutter I found myself weak in defeat ....as ik this demon reaching its peak will plunder an pillage the town I've found I'm bound to this beast nowhere to run not north south or east I can run it will feast on my soul until the end of time ..

For diamonds cannot compare to the rarity of a soul nor a bowl of Ruby's an jems rolled in gold .....

A bold statement you say........

.. theres no ray of light here they stole it away buried it in your mind but how can u define being locked trapped in yourself ...

You've dealt your own fate ...

Wanting ansers u dint deserve ..

Did you like your just dessert's...no?

Dose it hurt ..... After you itll kill children's childhood freinds like bernie & eart ....whent bizzirk an bashed there brains makeing bloody rains

curking on everyone with cutlery forks an knifes* slice *cook big bird with chives after I've shanked him 900 times... 100 more woulda been devine serve him drink to dry alone cooked an ripped him to the bone but not quite alone u may not be home inside but u can still watch...I thought I taught u better than to close ur eyes dont beg or look surprised look away an I'll adopt another stray to do the same a slow sweet death cure's my hunger anyway

.the wines innocents blood bitter sweet to the taste of the tounge

no one thought it capable I seemed...looked ...so young..

They dint know it had just begun it wasn't me but the evil half committing crime with glee an fleeing repetavidly revealingly images to my mind of times & crimes so sickening I thought I'd die forever scetched seered into my mind .binded with no power as one towers over you using your power you cowar for how dose one define the disasbalment of there an every defined mind while ur inner demon dines on flesh making a mess of your vessel you cant even wrestle your way to the light to stay only break down in defeat that your so far away you've became an internal mess cant even stand on ur feet the beast has u chained in defeat u cry an apologize looking for answers as of how to stop.....an then...you hear a voice .." you outta stayed silent instead of talk back. U shouldn't of complained do u still think ur life used to be pain...... . Ur a sack of shit ur wit is less than that of an ant not to rant but I'm not done yet I have ur soul now I'm never letting go no no no I have plenty more so much to show many souls to reap an emotions to subdue after all u said yes.....

...did you forget ur the one who started this.

mess ......you dressed your mind with fantasy an fiction word to the wise never mess with other worldly friction an your itching for a way out but I doubt ull get there before the end of time .after all you had a devil an an angel on ur shoulder an you chose wrong this time. Only took 666 times but I'm patient an always waiting for 6 years hating an burning flesh waiting for a prayer a call after all Lucifer was once an angel an the most beautiful you just dint get to see from what angle he had beauty wrath an determination but u humans resulted in his isolation incarsorason. So now we will end up being humanity's enialation when were done there entire selves with evaporate for the demons have released self hate to pro create creatures in confidence we annihilate the fate of the human race at least the trace slight like us able to bust threw dementions so weve mentioned a start to find the inordinary soul an heart ......humanity was doomed from the start.. you stole our purpose our reason to be......humans sit in sin an glee.

Your humanitys Pride is overbearing never genuinely caring ..

Greed is sweeping the nation its reached ever state an it's got a hot heaping plate of corruption for mankind's consumption greed is grotesque in its steps of the darkest quest to corupt ur mind an want. .want..want until that's all you are is wanting more

Lusting over losely draped garments you've tarnished ur soul .

Envy of what you do not posses but for all you know that information an life would make you a mess but ud still test ur envious tendencies.....

Glutton glutton what have you gained it's not knowledge no for it's to plain rather glutton uve found a urge that wont go away....

Wrath an vengeance blood draw too no one stops till some dies him or you....

Sloth last but not least cant forget you cause uuuh wait what that fuck do u do....you sleep an sulk sit slither out of simple tasks an that's why ur not 1st no ur last like humanity just ask ....

So soon the day will draw near the the number 4 is what you should fear our dear old freinds were sending up for a visit so they can reddit ur fate for each a horse an a trait the first out the door with bow in hand riding a white horse with bow in hand

..

Conquest the start of the final test leading the restthere dark version of light on a white stallion he leads the way an soon will follow hades anyway.

War was next on a red steed he rode prepared to purge an quench new blood for the wars an battels would just begin brother against brother an close of kin witch to win?

Famine foe of all on a black horse with the courses hair so fair merely bone but dont let his appearance fool you hes for he is full devouring your greed taking away everything you want or need an now ur rationed to nearly starvation stretching farther than destination world wide sensation...

Pleage reaper of souls slowly apears steadly trotting riding a very sickly steed looking pale an almost gruesome green with sores an sickness best keep a distance. For he shall be the bringer of death an reap you all one by one to the four you shall fall...

Will you be spared are you true....

Are you happy with your life what did you do...?

Rapture no you still must die.....

Say good by to this earthy chapter theres so much more that manifest after.

But only your earthly husk must rust an fall your all energy of grate mass....

It's time to take the task of self evolvment an enjoy an enlightened installment

this world was just step wrench ur third eye wide open an accept the token of eternal life.

Grinded it to atoms a flash of dust all together ur a self fulfilling must memory pass u in a rush.....

. sudently ur bodysuit is gone ....

But it dint felt like it quite belonged.

You were 7 grams of light matter to be exact an sudently you've cracked the atmosphere ..steering energetic waves my metal psyche caves to the new information flying threw stars consolations.

Suddently speeding at the sound of light the stratosphere seems to disapear ..

My fear is gonewithout a trace an freedom transferred in its place

but am waved in infatuation to find out about out true destination...

Restoration of the soul the goal of a higher self being achieved as I crash into the sun 1500°

I feel a warmth like no other each being hues of light I might of missed earth if not I heard a voice but a mental push no need for speech just thinking it shall be done said by the the brightest in the sun.

Rejoice at last but ur journeys yet to pass ..

This is merely were you start ....

Our flames grew high with frantic waves not wanting to give up the new life we were just gave

Suddenly our flames grew dim as we felt a swirling deep from withn sudently the surface of the sun turned to tin an bent in a cracked an caved with itself our time an space sending us ascending in alignment the same assignment.

Because the sun has begun to change ina twisted way a black hole some could say.

As all of our astral beings were ripped an tore apart at the seams we all merged an formed one all knowing creative being an sudently everything I've know has little matter I'm past a point of human chatter i understand infinity the holy trinity I down in the milky way an experienced every life I've relived it twice I've spliced my genetics into over 2000 million beings I've seen good an bad in between experienced every tragedy to build my strength an studyd every thesis an theory thread an chain nearly drove my vessel insane even took knifes threw my veins in anger yet it failed I was just a trailer.ive seen love hate an anger

Comprehension compasing many others I have love an understanding past many beings there anger seems to brush by me cause I'm with 2000 souls an minds that have formed one to reach a state I can medidate in the milky way an force your negative away .

Our astral self has accumulated complete power an understanding by costuming to our full potential our old body's merely a rental.

Gentle at first then bursted into power showered in knowledge I know now much that I wondered before but now I want more an I've thought till I an 2000 shared beings head hurt cause my girth of knowledge will now never be enough it's tough cause now I must find .... how to ascend again but for now i must defend my vast mind defind crime ...?

Keeping 2000 vast voices locked away so I can focus an try to learn anyway leaning in to vast places is I the 1st 2nd or 3rd or other many plains I cant quiet place I'm traveling threw them all searching for everything I couldn't before .

This life isent like the countless other this life I like it has interesting teathers

I've surpass Angel's an there feathers an vison of a hawk.

I've surpass demonds and there demonic temping talk ..

I've walked on water as I was ripped apart an I felt my self rebuilt every cell of my being got hit with rods of power lightning not even myself can fight me god like abilities the universe as built in me theres ben a spiritual shift a tilt in me somthing generations of DNA sprawled out in a numerical display my old life experiences is the price I pay so that I can be god even if only for a day

I think I'll sit an think somewere in the outter spink of the universe I've cursed myself with knowledge an now I'm aware step into my astral space....

If you dare...

[megan-lovell-blog]

journal

Placing myself within contemporary art structures.

I think I have found it difficult to place myself within a contemporary art framework, I find myself in my work, as in all other aspects of my life, straying from the status quo and rejecting societal norms. To me there is an internal struggle between the bourgeouis of the art world and how out of touch this feels with my views of the world and my place within it. Nevertheless, I am very much a traditional maker, to me the only way I have felt justified in creating work, is to create work with a very high level of skill. I am disheartened, in many ways, by the switch in the art world of concept over skill and craftsmanship, and feel as though the latter must very much exist in order for the former to be relevant. Art often feels very capitalist to me and with that it loses it's sense of soul, however I also struggle to see the justification in making a piece of work that anybody could make. As an artist, as in all other fields of work, I feel as though one has to be skilled in their medium. I have also often found it difficult to really be confident in what it is, I want to say. The turmoil is again present in a feeling that I dont find myself wanting to preach or feel as though I am trying to make a comment on anything from a pedestal, as though the viewer would be entirely unable to come to this revelation on their own. Despite this, I find myself to be quite an opinionated person, with a huge amount of discontent in many aspects current society, as such I find myself living on the fringes, with a markable sense of disenfranchisement that inevitably feeds continuously into my  life and sense of identity. So paradoxically, I am attempting sometimes to keep the very essence of my being and belief system out of my work out of a sense of ego and pride that I don’t want to ram my views down the throats of others, whom I believe are largely blind to the system that they are playing into. I am also concerned that in trying to force political or societal commentary or meaning onto work, it will seem forced, convoluted and inevitably too loaded. Until now, I have immersed myself in what i have felt to be the most honest part of art, exploring materials, honing craft, justifying my existence in the art world based on my attention to detail and commitment to craftsmanship. I can not, however, deny the fact that there is subliminally some very specific imagery and themes that reoccur within my work. Thematically, there is a distinct air of the fantastical with a macabre and slightly unsettling undertone. For me, there is some very personal symbolism and meaning involved in each individual piece, that I have begun finding it really interesting to dissect as a tool of self-reflection and understanding... sometimes almost to the point of psychoanalysis. However, this is quite personal and actually not something, I find is necessary or relevant to share with a viewer. What I have begun to explore within the slightly fantasy nature of my work is an element of story telling, creating characters and stories that go with them. I have not yet decided whether or not I feel the need to display the story with the pieces or they can help influence my creation of the sculptures which can speak for themselves. I find the idea of characters as metaphors for elements of the human condition, particularly within our current societal structures, means that I can explore these themes that are so fascinating to me without feeling as though I am standing on a soapbox. I guess the slightly macabre element to my work is largely that I dont feel the need to work through or bring attention to the easy and light bits of life, the bits that nobody talks about but everybody struggles with consciously or not are far more interesting to me, I want to bring attention to the vulnerabilities, fears and laments of humankind. Currently, I am almost solely using children as my subject matter, I believe this is because of the innate vulnerability, fragility and innocence that they represent. They are also a blank canvas, for me they represent infinite possibilities and potential. When we are children we can be anything and we believe we can be anything, it's as we age that the effects of responsibility, fortune, courage, education etc constrain us and map our lives moving forwards. With regards to the showing of my work, I struggle with the idea of my work being solely for a gallery, or a private collection, it makes it again, for a particular kind of person to enjoy. I want my work to be viewed outside, in public, for as many people as possible to see and interact with. Moving forward I would really like my work to potentially take on an element of entertainment, potentially in the form of narration of puppet shows, or a sculpture trail that is guided and narrated maybe even in song. I would really like my work to be accessible to many and to evoke imagination, joy, sadness and thought, I want it to make people think and maybe relate the microcosms to their own lives and unique experiences. I have begun to make links with my own work and a mythical element, much of the anthropomorphisation and even choice of materials innately has metaphor and meaning. I have begun to draw out the subconscious meanings that are involved in the symbolism in my work. Many of these meanings for me are very personal to my own experience of life and probably a certain amount of trauma related to this. I do however, feel as though the symbolism and general themes are not unusual and are commonplace in the lives of many and thus can be easily identified with. I feel as though my work is definitely currently sitting within the realms of contemporary classicism with regards to my requirement to make work that is of high attention to detail and anatomically correct. I feeel as though this works really well alongside my use of a fantastical element, myths and legends, which often featured in the works of classical and neoclassical artists.

Myth-Science/ Fictioning Lecture with Simon Clarke

Simon Clarkes lecture on myth-science and fictioning was incredibly useful and inspriring as it discussed the use of fiction and myth-making to create alternative realities and concepts that are difficult to explain or would be difficult to get one's head around otherwise. Simon discussed the use of fictioning in explaining concepts that could bring about radical change, potentially in creating a new future society, dealing with capitalism and environmental issues. Simon also led a couple of exercises based around creating fiction as a group and another involving making sounds as a collective and trying to work together to organically grow the sounds. These were fascinating to me as it was a lesson in collaboration, connection, releasing inhibitions, and felt very thought provoking as we so infrequently come together in a group of people, particularly those we don't know well, and engage in something that feels vulnerable and exposing. Futhermore to this, infrequently do we work as a community without favour for anyone to create something that is of benefit to all of us, even if this is simply chanting, singing and stomping ones feet. The story we created with joint ownership, was about a newly hatched octopus treading water above inky depths, who upon hearing breathing above him remembered he was no longer a bowl of tulips and so jumped up out of the water to look for the tulips which were his former self, only to be sucked into a vacuum cleaner where he spent eternity cotinuing his search for himself in a world of dust particles. Initially, I felt as though much of the story was not as I would have liked to write it myself and seemed stupid, but on further examination it was actually quite beautiful, meaningful and very reminiscent of old fables or stories from many cultures around the world. To me it spoke of someone trying desperately to grasp at old aspects of themselves which they hold in reverence and thus never being able to fully actualise the person they have now become, which has a world of potential you are too scared to find out. This lecture spurred me on to look at the use of myths in art throughout history and looking at the relationship between myth and metaphor within art. 'Metaphor allows us to understand abstract or inherently unstructured subject matter in terms of a more concrete or at least more structured subject matter' (Lakoff 1993:228-229). Much like it was discussed in Simon's lecture, stories, metaphors and myths have all been used as vehicles for broaching much more complex and often contentious or loaded topics and ideas. I also came across the notion that the time in which many of the myths we still know today was very poignant in the creedance they were given as without science there was more validity in mysticism as genuine explanation. I would potentially argue that one may as well believe in the old gods and any number of other old wives tales, in fact if they did so with so much unquestioning vehemance as they do capitalist constructs, the world would probably at least be mostly nicer and a bit more fun, as this is just as much a made up concept as the tooth fairy but with a horrendous amount more greed, callousness and poverty.

Woodcutting collaborative Project

This has been a challenging project for me as I feel it doesn't really fit for where my work has been going recently. I felt resistant to it as it seemed not to showcase my strengths, but I have overall enjoyed the project and have found a way to make a piece of work that I feel is relevant to me. The woodcut is of a young girl being held up by nature, with which I have written a story that has actually been very challenging to write. For me it is quite poignant and very close to my heart, I am not sure if I feel they completely match as pieces of work, as the picture itself very much has more of a bite the hand that feeds element to it. To me it speaks of the idea that we are held up and kept alive by a natural world which we then abuse for our own satisfaction, greed or desire to own thebeauty of as opposed to just witness it. I am pleased with the image overall, and feel as though it is something I would like to pursue further potentially for a future sculpture. Unfortunately due to coronavirus, I was unable to print this picture using the facilities at university but I wanted to see it through to a final conclusion so I have managed to create a version of the print using oil paints and a wooden spoon method. For me, I don't feel as much connection to my own 2D work, it doesn't have as much movement or life in it.

Blacksmithing competition 20x20x150

During this term, I entered an open call blacksmithing competition run by Hereford College of Arts, for this, I made a sculpture of a forged steel person with a large 'spoonhead'. I wanted to enter this competition to have an opportunity to work to a brief, making something from a particular size of 20x20x150 square bar steel. It was also an opportunity to apply for something outside of university and look at the process of getting your work out there to be viewed on a larger scale. Unfortunately the forge at uni broke 2 weeks before deadline so I had only one day to produce a piece. I made my spoonhead person using someone elses forge outside of university and have written a story to go along with it. The piece itself, is a prototype I suppose, as having made it, I envision there being many of them all outside as an installation, in the woods or on a hillside. I have even considered maybe asking other people to make one each, with the idea maybe that they are all effigies of our egos, for which the spoonheads are a metaphor. Please read the story attached to the people if you would like more info. 

Forging has been a relatively new process this year but one that I have been fascinated by in terms of metallurgy, process and skill. It is truly alchemy in its changing of a solid object into something completely other. Next time I would like to look at making the head even larger and thinner and applying repousse techniques for adding features.

Storytelling within my work

This term, I began to run with the obvious fantastical element of my work, and attempt to get to know my characters, for a better understanding of where they come from within me and also as a way of better making their messages clear within the works. As a result of this, as the characters come to life through process, as does their story begin to reveal itself to me. I have been writing whort stories alongside the works to aide me, I am as yet unsure as to whether I will want my stories to be viewed as part of my work or if they are part of just my process in understanding my work and the characters that I create. I don't know yet if they are necessary as an addition that adds to the intrigue of the works or if they overexplain the works. Lots of the deeper meanings of my work, I have found, are rooted in my own experiences of life and relationships - which has been really interesting for me by way of self therapising and understanding where I come from as a person - however the minutia of my personal life are not particularly relevant to others when viewing my work. In making it less specific to me, it makes it more relatable to others.

Process Sculpturally and 2D

This term, I have decided to take the focus off of making 2D work, and only making work that I am genuinely interested in and proud of making. I haven’t been finding 2D work to be challenging or engaging currently and in this, it doesn't hold my attention or passion. For me there is a lack in impact with flat work, making work in 3D automatically brings it into being as an entity within the world that we can interract with and view from all angles. It's important for me to explore the use of materials to convey a greater depth of meaning within my work. Materials are an extra language to be used to evoke thoughts and feelings within the viewer without having to be overt. Having said this, I am also in love with working with metal, for me it's capabilities are endless, and the more one understands the metallurgy involved in metalwork, the more you are able to achieve. As the term has progressed, I have been researching artists and painters and have found some, such as Beth Carter and Kiki Smith, that have been making 2D work alongside their sculpture that is often heavily stylised and has an element of fantasy and macabre to them, I have continued to look into other artists making work that is flat. that is interesting to me and have found that I am actually quite attracted to developing my own drawing skills to make work with a style that is more interesting than my own, which can be seen within my sketchbook. I am also been motivated to have a go at painting for the first time as it has another element of process and layering material, as in my sculptures so far. I have been really intrigued and inspired particularly by Ruth Spear and Shaun Friend as contemporary artists that I have found through instagram. From this I have spurred off into looking at pre raphaelite artists such as Millais and Waterhouse as these also create very skilled work with an element of myth and storytelling involved. I feel this also adds in to my placing within the realms of contemporary classicism. Storytelling for Earthly Survival

Lisa Wright and Tom Piper - Future Forest

Despite feeling as though this work is slightly clumsy in terms of craftsmanship and not entirely to my taste, I feel as though it is a good example of work that is environmentally and perhaps almost a little politically charged in the direction of persuasion that I myself would subscribe to. It gives art a higher purpose than just being something that is beautiful to look at. It is also interesting to me as I would like to make work with the view of it being shown outdoors and existing therefore in both harmony and juxtaposition to the natural environment. I feel as though taking art out of the gallery and putting it into a place that has more of a soul, gives it more depth and an environment to interract with. It also makes the work more accessible to a larger population who may not so readily engage with showing their work in a gallery. As with my work there is the use of classicalesque poses and figures with a contemporary element, which brings the dialogue of past and present.

Kiki Smith

Kiki Smith makes use of a very stylised way of drawing that is reminiscent of old fashioned fairytale illustration with an almost childlike feel which, coupled with an often macabre subject matter with a heavy fairytale subtext, makes for an unsettling feel in her work. I feel like although her style is quite different from mine, her intent is similar in that it uses story to make comment on the world and the human condition. Often Smith also uses animals in her work similarly to myself. Her sculptures have similarity to my own in that often they use nude figures and animals, however, like her drawings - there is less of a focus on realism and more stylising than in my own. Her work generally focuses around the plight of women and equality, which is quite reminiscent of her time starting out within the art world. This has less relevance for me within my work at my time in history, however I feel there are similarities with the use of fantasy and imagery to allude to more serious, societal observations.

Tim Shaw

For me there is a great deal of confliction in my feelings about Tim Shaw's work as an artist. 'The rights of Dionyssus' is a piece that I love for the sense of movement and energy he has created within the installation, they feel crazed and a little depraved in their festivities, which I feel strikes a perfect amount of discomfort to go along with the awe. In terms of making, I am really inspired by the artistry and skill that has led to the making of this particular piece and I can definitely draw similarities with the anthropomorphic direct metal figures anfd they are very relevant to my love of narrative, legend and fantasy. Having said that, it has been drawn to my attention by some people that these and his bullfighter pieces also, have an element of cultural appropriation around them, this personally I can understand more with the bullfighter as myths from so long ago don't belong to one people necessarily in a europe that has seen so many invasions and decimation of the original civilisation, these myths belong to us all at this point. In many of Shaw's other pieces, however, I find that they are too overt. Often I feel they are too over sexualised, to a point of a reliance on shock factor and also not particularly respectful of women recently in his work strapping a woman covered in tar and feathers to a pole - a problematic decision from the privilege of a white middle aged man.

Beth Carter

Beth Carter's work is interesting to me as she has a real attention to detail and high level of aptitude in relation to her craft. Her work draws a lot of parrallels to mine with the heavy use of anthropomorphisation. She also regularly uses mythology, such as her minotour pieces. Her birdman is also reminiscent of a plague doctors mask. In her drawings she focuses on children and a juxtapose between innocence and a sense of uneasiness/ slightly macabre undertones. Evident from the drawing of the girl with the lion cub, she uses found imagery often as inspiration, this particular girl is one I recognise from a Sally Man photograph. I feel as though her work is also very related to fragility, awkwardness, sadness, apathy and the human condition. I feel as though her drawings particularly bring a fantasy element, her proportions and composition can occasionally be intentionally childish too, helping further to transport the viewer into a feeling of childhood and ones own experiences.

Phillip Wakeham

I became acquainted with the work of this artist in a gallery in St Ives and it stood out to me from the rest for the amount of movement and texture in the pieces, this coupled with a use of mythology and slight abjectivity makes for work that is considered and relevant in contemporary art, whilst also reminiscent of more classical sculpture.  

Jovana Tucovic

I was drawn to Jovana Tucovic largely for her use of materials with this series, I can draw a lot of parallels with regards to the texture and patina of the the steel and the patchwork like make up of her figures. I think she has also created an eery and uncomfortable deathmask type effect with her melancholic faces. The fractured, delicate feel of these pieces, despite the fact that they are made of a very hard material with a dark finish is a beautiful juxtaposition, as though they are just managing to keep their hard exteriors together. In terms, as well, of her work being figurative and quite clearly having links to vulnerability, I feel as though there are reasonable links between these pieces and my own work. Much of her other work also explores the use of materials, properties and textures to help allude to her meaning with subtlety and finesse. Similarly to myself, she makes work reminiscent of classical sculpture, in her use of poses and choosing to make busts and brings to that a contemporary element.

Grayson Perry

What I really love about Grayson Perry's work is the narrative, his work is so rich with story and life and comment on very everyday experience and society. Its intelligent, progressive and actually makes use of an incredibly old method of storyboarding. These are very reminiscent of old roman vases telling the tales of the gods. quite similarly to my own work, Perry makes use of classical craftsmanship and art practices to make work that has real contemporary relevance. He also creates a show with his work, everything has a rich sense of life and colour, including the way he often dresses himself. Conceptually, Grayson uses his work to make comment on societal issues in a lighthearted and more easy to digest way, which is something I am really intrigued by and hope I am finding a way slowly to emulate within my own work. I can find that work being too preachy, serious or loaded is often disregarded in a way that any sour medicine shoved down ones throat by an holier than thou do gooder almost inevitably is. Grayson's work sugarcoats the pill enough to make the message linger.

Emma Talboys

This artist is my own mother, so in a way there will no doubt be many ways in which she has influenced me as a person and thus my work generally. She works almost entirely in panting or print, using vibrant colour. Something, I have until now tried to avoid personally, potentially in an attempt to distance myself from my mother. Emma Talboys' work is by and large quite impressionist, but also has a high level of skill and mastery of the paint, she really focuses in on the pieces within the work that she feels she wants the attention to be drawn most to. Quite similarly to my own work there is a use of quite macabre undertones and heavy symbolism. Also quite similarly to my own work, she uses her artwork as a self therapising activity to help her work through her own trauma.

Sally Mann

I have chosen to include this artist as her photos play with vulnerability, relationships, discomfort, awkwardness and many more disquietening feelings around childhood and the human condition. Although contentious in many ways as the photos have been called exploitative of her children, there has also been enmity regarding the fact that the photos are staged and quite disingenuous and potentially therefore commodifying and glamourising of a lifestyle or themes that do not relate to her directly as a wealthy, white, western woman. Despite this, the photos are evocative and beautifully disquietening. They speak of elements of my own childhood and provoke memories for me from a very shaping part of my life. Sally Mann is also included as I have definitely used her photos as part of my own found imagery for reference during recent projects.

Lobster Claw boy

The Lobster Claw boy that I have created was again an idea that just came to me and has taken me until quite far into the process of making him to get to know him enough to understand his story. I felt as though I was constantly forcing a narrative on him and I didn't quite understand where he had come from for a long time. I thought maybe he was about the young hearted, whimsical, strong characters that I was attracted to, but I don't feel this is the case. As I have slowly pieced this boy together bit by bit, I have begun to realise that his armour like body is about defense and the patches like bandages show an idea of a wounded person who is putting up a defense mechanism. The steel in the body has been forged at high temperature giving scale and texture making him look worn and weathered but his skin also looks fragile and flesh-like, making it quite confusing to see softness in such a hard material, mirroring again the idea of vulnerability and strength.He originally was supposed to have a a head made from the same process but this hasn’t been possible due to the lack of facilities following coronavirus. The lobster claws which were originally supposed to be made from stained glass (but COVID_19 made this impossible) again represent this idea of strength, they were supposed to be made of glass, which is very delicate, reminiscent of fragile masculinity but also fragile defense mechanisms. The fact that lobsters mate for life is also poignant as one of the reference photos I used for this piece was of a young boy holding hands on the beach with other children, the idea that ones big shows of strength or heavy defenses, actually often make us totally unable to form intimacy or connection with others. I decided to make the feet out of clay for the below text. I feel as though these add another layer to my piece, the idea that from the outside one might seem perfect or revered for their strengths in whatever element, but there is a fundamental hidden flaw that causes a refered person to fall from their pedestal. I have made the feet but again due to COVID-19, I haven't been able to get them fired. The origins of the phrase "feet of clay" are biblical, but the words can also evoke the mythology of the Titan Prometheus, who sculpted humans out of clay. This photograph by the American Bruce Nauman (born 1941) is taken from the series Eleven ColorPhotographs—including the better-known Self Portraitas a Fountain––which explores the relationship between image and language, taking cues from popular puns and turns of phrase. To have "feet of clay" is to have a hidden flaw or character defect unbeknownst to those who admire you.

Magpie Girl sculpture

This character from very early on has been quite clearly a representation of my own flighty and discontented nature. It represents my desire to constantly be elsewhere, doing something else and my magnetism towards the next shiny thing. In the story associated with it, it also explains where I believe this came from, and my pain at the disillusionment, that the world was not as I had always been told it was. It also represents the idea of building my own wings to take me away to the life that I want to have, I feel as though I have been striving for years to forge myself an unconventional path to bring me fulfillment and happiness away from mundanity of what is expected of one in modern, capitalist society. This sculpture has been made of scrap copper and I have left on as much of the natural patina as possible as the aged tarnished look, I feel is not only beautiful but also representational or the tired and tarnished feeling of drudging through a world, in a way of life that you don't want to be a part of. I have decided to make it articulating, like a puppet or a doll and stitch it together to show the idea that she has been made to be manipulated. The sculpture was supposed to have a magpie costume made of separate materials, mostly leather and fabric, this difference in material is to compound the idea that these wings do not naturally belong to the girl and have been forged by her. the stitching on her body is also a metaphor for her being a little broken and her life being stitched together, it could also represent the idea that I have often felt as though I was a little stitched up to find out that adult life was really not at all as I had been led to believe.

Unfortunately this piece is not finished to the level I wanted as coronavirus meant I had not workshop access anymore, so I will hope to continue it to completion when I have facilities again

. This piece is actually made using very old traditional repousse techniques, which add a classicalesque feel and a very unique appearance to the sculpture within the context of modern art.

Magpie girl painting

This is my first attempt at oil painting. I decided to have a go as an experiment and given that I am currently unable to make my sculptural work due to COVID-19. I have found painting to be very difficult and there is a lot of new skills to learn. I have found that I am not entirely happy with the working product, the process is not to my taste, it is not personal enough and it lacks a tangibility which I find more and more to be integral in my work. The concept is based around the magpie girl story and character that has emerged. In this variation, she used the wings that she made to jump out over the water to be free so the painting sees her floating in the water in her costume.. 

Working with metal

  Metal must be understood on a structural level in order to make it move as you want it to, it also has a bit of a mind of it's own and thus there is a dialogue with the material, there has to be an element of allowing the material to come to life and to have it's own say in the direction of it's future form, which is something that I love. I also work with scrap metal largely, this is particularly important to me, as I don't feel comfortable with using finite materials or adding to the tat that is amassing in the world. I would much more happily give something already in existence, a new lease of life.

Things to explore moving forward

Can I bring an element of participation or putting on a show in order to try and bridge or work through the awkwardness/discomfort/ difficulty in finding and or engaging in human connection? Do I want my stories to be part of my process to help understand my work, or do I feel as though they would be of benefit to the viewer? Does this maybe overcrowd or overexplain my work, or does it add to intrigue?

COVID - 19

The shut down of university facilities has massively affected my ability to get much of my work finished to the level that I had previously envisioned. To begin with this really disheartened me as I have been incredibly tied to my vision for my work. My friend sent me a photo of a mixed media sculpture by Susanne Ussing of a woman in a greenhouse, this was largely made in chicken wire and paper mache with wood and sheet steel components, this has helped me to look into other avenues for finishing the work. Alongside a conversation with Lucy Willow about the fact that artists will always make art no matter what their facilities are, this has helped me to open up to other possibilities for making work. With the beginning of the coronavirus lockdown, I felt quite detached from my artwork and as though I was quite unable to see the point of making, I felt that growing a garden and building a chicken coop became my new priorities and that art was no longer so important. I also feel as though anything I'm interested in making work about now has slightly shifted and as though it's a bit of a shame this has come midway through the project as it kind of takes away from the cohesion of the body of work a little. I have started to make a few drawings, as I am unable to make much else currently, about the connection of people to the land. These maybe highlight a definite shift in perspective for me that has become evident even more so during this time, that we need to focus more heavily on bridging the gap of disconnection. Disconnection from each other individually, as cultural groups and disconnection from the planet. I have been particularly lucky during this trying time as I live in a community, so our lives have very much become about supporting each other, building better communal veg plots and becoming more self sufficient. Whilst mourning the loss of my summer plans, I have also become astutely aware of a sense of humbling and finding contentment in simpler things.

[daltonpearman-blog]

Research Paper

How do you judge if someone is successful? Most people will look at their income and net worth to judge their success. But for most people around the world their very existences and survival depends on generating some type of monetary value to secure fundamental resources like food, water, and shelter. What if I told you that the people who have the most money or control the most money have no responsibility to rest of the world? The people who can create great cities and discover exciting new technology didn’t have to do so. This paper discusses the ethical and social responsibility that financial services industry has to the rest of world. The choices they make impact every single person on this world from interest rates to price of goods sold. When we look at the responsibility this industry has it goes beyond just some dollar signs and effects the dreams of everybody.

             So, what is the financial sector? “The financial sector is a category of stocks containing firms that provide financial services to commercial and retail customers; this sector includes banks, investment funds, insurance companies and real estate” (Staff, Investopedia). This is a pretty broad term but it basically means if a company works around providing services for getting money they are most likely in the financial sector. When I speak about unethical financial activities, this can include giving a loan to somebody who can’t afford it or an example with Wells Fargo creating fake accounts to increase profits at the expense of its customers.

             One aspect of this paper will look at the different ways unethical business practices can have a negative effect on the market. This will include a look at the housing crash of 2008 which was powered by poor business decisions and even worst ethical decisions. This paper will also begin to look at why an individual will choose to break these ethical standards. This ranges from simply worrying about increasing profits to believing that if it isn’t illegal it can’t be unethical.

             There isn’t only a negative side to following or not following ethical guidelines and this paper will explore the different ways that companies are choosing the right thing and increasing profits. This will bring up the topic of corporate social responsibility which is the idea that a positive corporate culture doesn’t just benefit the community but helps with employee morale and increasing profits (McNamara). As a new generation of companies are beginning to grow and take over it shows that work life and social life no longer have to be separated and making money doesn’t mean hurting other people.

             From my research, I have concluded that choosing ethical and morally correct decisions are not just better for the people but also for organization. It creates a positive work place culture, increases profits, and litigates the risk of lawsuits. For this reason, I believe that companies must hold themselves to higher ethical standards while at the same time public organizations should be created to keep them in check.

             When discussing the impact of choosing ethically poor decisions it is best to evaluate different examples of a complete lack of ethics at a micro and macro level. The first example will be of the recent Wells Fargo scandal of creating fake consumer accounts and charging account fees. In this situation, employees were incentivized to create as many accounts as possible. Though this may seem like a logical way to get employees to generate more revenue, poor execution led to managers pushing employees to the point to where they had to create fake accounts to meet their quota. Also, employees who tried to stand up to their managers often were fired or forced to leave the company. “You can talk yourself blue in the face about ethics, as many Wells Fargo managers did, but you cannot send employees a clearer signal than their paycheck” (Pastin). This quote shows that talking about ethics isn’t as important as acting on ethical decisions. The negative impacts of this was almost immediate as 5,300 employees were fired for their involvement, the CEO left his position, and the brand name of the company is almost completely ruined (Cowley and Corkery). If the correct decisions would have been made, many people would still have their jobs but, more importantly, more consumers would not feel violated for putting their faith in what they thought was an ethical company.

             In rare cases society has seen an ethical collapse on a macro level. This requires people from many different backgrounds to choose unethical decisions. One of the most famous examples of this would be the housing crash of 2008 where bankers, consumers, and even regulators chose unethical decisions that resulted in one the worst recessions the world has ever seen. One of the most important failures was in the poor regulatory framework (Blundell-Wignall). To give a quick summary of the issue, banks were giving high risk mortgages out to an individual then packaging these mortgages together and selling them to investors. These investments were not vetted properly.  They were given higher security ratings because if they didn’t rate them high enough, the rating companies would lose business. The consumer makes a poor ethical decision by getting a mortgage they know they cannot afford and living far above their means. If at any one of these points someone would have asked themselves “Am I doing the right thing?” the housing crash of 2008 could have been prevented. This means that almost 10 million families would not have lost their home (The 2008 Housing Crisis Displaced More Americans than the 1930s Dust Bowl).

             Now that we have discussed some examples of poor ethical decisions made by people we can begin to discuss why they made these decisions. The reasons can be broken down into five points; the first is greed. This can be easily explained as once people and companies start making money their goal is to get more thus do anything to obtain it. The second aspect is that many people are not fully developed morally. This can be seen in business school where in some circumstances the focus is strictly taught on how to become profitable but not how to become reasonable. The third, if it isn’t illegal it must be ethical. This is a common excuse found in many organizations that if is clearly not stated to be illegal then it cannot be wrong.  An example of this would be a company giving loans to people that shouldn’t have loans because it is above their means. Though this isn’t illegal it creates a system of failure that eventually comes crashing down. The fourth is that poorly designed incentive programs reward the wrong behavior. This can be simply put as rewarding the wrong behaviors will result in poor decisions. This can also be a grey area because it is not always obvious to see when the wrong things are being rewarded as seen before with the Wells Fargo example. The final reasons are the desire to please the client at any cost. Many times, employees and companies must make unethical decisions to satisfy the needs of their clients. This creates conflicting loyalty that forces the company to pick a side. In many of these situations it is better for the company to pick the customers side because of the financial gain and the extreme negative impact of not fulling client needs (Federwish).

             As shown in this paper, there are many incentives to not following ethical standards so why should a company? This creates the idea of corporate social responsibility.  This can be simply defined as the responsibility a company has to society to produce, source, and manage its products. Having strong corporate social responsibility can benefit the company in several ways and lead to increased profits. These benefits can be acquiring more customers, having happy and more productive employees, and attracting investors. This can result in attracting customers by building a sense of trust and respect. This creates a competitive advantage that can be used to leverage the market. When it comes to hiring employees, it is easier and cheaper for companies if the employee wants to work there. An example of this is that a highly skilled employee may choose a lowering paying job to work at a company that he or she feels is making a difference in the world. For employees that already work at a company with strong corporate responsibility, it creates more productive employees because a since of pride is being developed for their product. Finally, investors are drawn to these companies, which drives up the value of the company, because historically they are more dependable and are less likely to be harmed by scandal (Ethical business practices-A Cadbury Schweppes case study).

             Society has seen a new outlook on social corporate responsibility that has been driven by gigantic tech companies. One example of this is off the Bill Gates. The charity he has started, from the money he has received my Microsoft, has donated 36.7 billion dollars (Foundation Fact Sheet). This is a sign of growing change among high wealth induvial to do more with their money and companies than just make profits. A manufacturing company that has gone above and beyond its competitors to be responsible is Patagonia. The company has taken extra steps to ensure that the people making their clothes are treated correctly, the resources they are using are sourced correctly, and that they leave a positive environmental impact (Environmental & Social Responsibility). This has been achieved based on the company values even though it could become more profitable by not doing so.

             The responsibility a company has, especially a financial company, can alter the direction of countries and the lives of people. If people within these large organizations do not hold each other accountable for choosing correct ethical decisions a create number of misjustices can occur. It also the job of society to positively enforce strong ethical habits and hold companies accountable. The social and economic decisions made by large financial intuitions should be held at the highest standard not just because of the large impact that they possess but also because it can create more economic growth and a more productive work force. If employees and employers where to take pride in what they did and how they did it, this will create a stronger nation but also lead to strong moral development of the generations to follow.

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McNamara, Carter. “Business Ethics and Social Responsibility.” Udemy, 10 Dec 2013, http://managementhelp.org/businessethics/. Accessed 14 Feb 2017

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