Got two more for you: I believe this one's in episode 9. When Mon and Tay are discussing how solve the issue of missing funds in the Embassy. The way they talk and lean close to each other. Their body language is SO LOUD.
From episode 10, the wide shot of Mon, Tay and Sculdun all sitting on that round couch. Mon in the center, and one of them on either side. The symmetry in that shot still transfixes me to this day. Was it intentional? A reflection of Mon being torn between tradition (Sculdun) and a new age (Tay) while building a rebellion perhaps? It's the one thing I would ask Tony Gilroy about if I could.
Mon also very well represented. i should not be surprised
i went a page too far in finding this one
and ended up with this, which amused me but is not what you said
but this one hell yeah!! (tony come on the podcast (we have not started the podcast))
Tell me your favorite Andor quote or screenshot because I'm bored and I miss it!
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I was meeting a client at a famous museum’s lounge for lunch (fancy, I know) and had an hour to kill afterwards so I joined the first random docent tour I could find. The woman who took us around was a great-grandmother from the Bronx “back when that was nothing to brag about” and she was doing a talk on alternative mediums within art.
What I thought that meant: telling us about unique sculpture materials and paint mixtures.
What that actually meant: an 84yo woman gingerly holding a beautifully beaded and embroidered dress (apparently from Ukraine and at least 200 years old) and, with tears in her eyes, showing how each individual thread was spun by hand and weaved into place on a cottage floor loom, with bright blue silk embroidery thread and hand-blown beads intricately piercing the work of other labor for days upon days, as the labor of a dozen talented people came together to make something so beautiful for a village girl’s wedding day.
What it also meant: in 1948, a young girl lived in a cramped tenement-like third floor apartment in Manhattan, with a father who had just joined them after not having been allowed to escape through Poland with his pregnant wife nine years earlier. She sits in her father’s lap and watches with wide, quiet eyes as her mother’s deft hands fly across fabric with bright blue silk thread (echoing hands from over a century years earlier). Thread that her mother had salvaged from white embroidery scraps at the tailor’s shop where she worked and spent the last few days carefully dying in the kitchen sink and drying on the roof.
The dress is in the traditional Hungarian fashion and is folded across her mother’s lap: her mother doesn’t had a pattern, but she doesn’t need one to make her daughter’s dress for the fifth grade dance. The dress would end up differing significantly from the pure white, petticoated first communion dresses worn by her daughter’s majority-Catholic classmates, but the young girl would love it all the more for its uniqueness and bright blue thread.
And now, that same young girl (and maybe also the villager from 19th century Ukraine) stands in front of us, trying not to clutch the old fabric too hard as her voice shakes with the emotion of all the love and humanity that is poured into the labor of art. The village girl and the girl in the Bronx were very different people: different centuries, different religions, different ages, and different continents. But the love in the stitches and beads on their dresses was the same. And she tells us that when we look at the labor of art, we don’t just see the work to create that piece - we see the labor of our own creations and the creations of others for us, and the value in something so seemingly frivolous.
But, maybe more importantly, she says that we only admire this piece in a museum because it happened to survive the love of the wearer and those who owned it afterwards, but there have been quite literally billions of small, quiet works of art in billions of small, quiet homes all over the world, for millennia. That your grandmother’s quilt is used as a picnic blanket just as Van Gogh’s works hung in his poor friends’ hallways. That your father’s hand-painted model plane sets are displayed in your parents’ livingroom as Grecian vases are displayed in museums. That your older sister’s engineering drawings in a steady, fine-lined hand are akin to Da Vinci’s scribbles of flying machines.
I don’t think there’s any dramatic conclusions to be drawn from these thoughts - they’ve been echoed by thousands of other people across the centuries. However, if you ever feel bad for spending all of your time sewing, knitting, drawing, building lego sets, or whatever else - especially if you feel like you have to somehow monetize or show off your work online to justify your labor - please know that there’s an 84yo museum docent in the Bronx who would cry simply at the thought of you spending so much effort to quietly create something that’s beautiful to you.
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talking to preschoolers is awesome bc they have not fully differentiated stories into 'true stories' and 'imaginary stories' yet so you will tell them about something that happened you once (coyote came out of a bush right in front of you and got startled) and they will tell you about how one time their house was full of coyotes in every room 'including five in the garage' and they're not even like, aware i think of the idea that they are technically 'lying'. they are simply telling stories about coyotes bc its time to tell stories about coyotes.
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Wyll being a terrible monster hunter is something that is so special actually. told to hunt heartless devil? immediately convinced of her goodness and humanity and without hesitation agrees to defy the devil who has his soul in custody and spare karlach at tremendous personal physical cost. vampire in camp? well hes handsome and funny and pretty polite about where he puts his teeth so it’s fine all things considered. finding out the person who ritualistically disemboweled a tiefling in front of him is a bhaalspawn like an unholy progeny of the god of murder that is culturally immediately reviled? no that’s his friend and he completely trusts in their ability to fight their nature with their own inner light. it doesn’t matter that they created the absolute they’re not that person anymore. Like Wyll. you are literally categorically not hunting the monsters. guy of all time
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"Tumblr is my bedroom" this "tumblr is a pinboard" that
Tumblr is an apartment complex with thin walls and every so often you just have to listen to your neighbors say the most deranged shit imaginable
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Danny Phantom, The Show:
geeky kid gets super powers from his parents' weird inventions! now he has to fight a rogue gallery of ghosts... but uh-oh! he still has to keep his grades up, deal with his embarrassing parents, and navigate girl troubles! rap theme song!
Danny Phantom, the Fandom, After 19 Years of Fermentation:
a child dies. but not quite. the inherent tension between life and death. the obsession of the dead for faded remnants of the living. warped green shadows on the walls of a dark laboratory. having to hide your true nature from those who should be your greatest allies. the fear of the monster you could become if you let yourself. being a ghost as a metaphor for the trans experience. a cold breath on the back of your neck in the dead of the night. rap theme song!
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