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hypnos-company · 2 years

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Les différentes techniques de tissage de la soie - Les types de tissus en soie

Il existe une multitude de techniques de tissage de la soie. Ces différentes techniques, jouent sur l’aspect qu’aura le tissu: ses couleurs, ses motifs, sa rigidité, sa douceur et sa brillance. Un tissu peut être tissé à partir de différentes matières, qu’elles soient naturelles, telles que la soie, le coton ou la laine, ou synthétiques, telles que le polyester.

Avant d’évoquer les différents types de tissus en soie, il convient de rappeler la différence fondamentale entre matière et technique de tissage.

Différence entre MATIÈRE et TECHNIQUE DE TISSAGE

Il existe différentes techniques de tissage de la soie, et, chacune d’entre elles a des caractéristiques et des aspects esthétiques qui lui sont propres. Avant de lister ces différentes techniques, il est important de comprendre que la SOIE est une MATIÈRE, alors que les types de tissus que nous allons citer ne sont que des METHODES DE TISSAGE de la soie. Il ne faut pas se méprendre lorsque vous lisez le terme type de tissu, car un type de tissu désigne simplement une façon de tisser une matière.

Par exemple, Le Satin est une façon de tisser, lorsque la Soie est une matière. Le type de tissu “Satin de Soie” veut dire que la soie a été tissée en utilisant des techniques de tissage appelées Satin. Il est donc essentiel de bien faire la distinction entre technique de tissage et matière.

Les différentes techniques de tissage de la soie et leurs dérivées

Il existe 9 grandes techniques populaires de tissage de la soie:

1. Le SATIN

2. L’ORGANZA

3. Le CRÊPE

4. Le TAFFETAS

5. Le JACQUARD

6. Le VELOURS

7. Le SERGÉ

8. La MOUSSELINE (également appelée CHIFFON)

9. La GAZE Chacune de ces 9 techniques de tissage possède des dérivées. On compte 64 dérivées qui sont les suivantes:

La technique de tissage SATIN - 11 dérivées La messaline, La charmeuse, Le dos de crêpe satin, Pantoufle en satin, Le satin duchesse, Le satin baronnet, Le satin antique, Le satin double face, Le satin façonné, Le satin du sultan et Le satin coupé.

La technique de tissage ORGANZA - 6 dérivées L’organza brodée, L’organza cristal, L’organza broyée, L’organza tournée, L’organza miroir et L’organza satinée.

La technique de tissage CRÊPE - 8 dérivées Le crêpe de chine, Le crêpe georgette, Le satin à dos crêpe, Le crêpe canton, Le crêpe plissé, Le crêpe charmeuse, Le crêpe marocaine et Le 4 plis.

La technique de tissage TAFFETAS - 14 dérivées Le tiré de taffetas de soie, Le taffetas imprimé chaine, Le taffetas de papier, Le taffetas antique, Le taffetas en faille, Le taffetas stretch, Le taffetas moiré, Le taffetas teint en fil, Le taffetas teint en pièce, Le taffetas caméléon, Le taffetas arc en ciel, Le taffetas de Florence, La marceline et La louisine.

La technique de tissage JACQUARD - 2 dérivées Le brocart et Le damassé (damas).

La technique de tissage VELOURS - 16 dérivées Le velours écrasé, Le velours panne, Le velours gaufré, Le velours ciselé, Le velours plain, Le velours extensible, Le velours pile, Le velours ras, Le jersey velours, Le velours dévoré, Le velours broché, Le velours côtelé, Le velours bouclé, Le velours milleraies, Le velours de Gênes et Le velours minky.

La technique de tissage SERGÉ - 7 dérivées Le sergé croisé, Le sergé à effet chevron, Le sergé français, Le sergé worsted, Le twill, Le tweed et Le pied de poule.

Il n’existe pas de dérivées particulières pour la MOUSSELINE et la GAZE

Les différentes techniques de tissage mentionnées sont les plus populaires à ce jour, mais, il existe une multitude d’autres types de tissus en soie. Il est certains qu’il existe des méthodes de tissage qui ne sont connues qu’au niveau de certaines petites communautés. Apres tout, le tissage est un art et il peut être exprimé de façons diverses et variées. Ce qu’il faut retenir, c’est qu’une technique de tissage donnera toujours au tissu le même aspect, peu importe la matière utilisée. Par exemple, un tissu en satin de soie aura le même aspect qu’un tissu en satin de polyester. La grosse différence résidera dans les bienfaits qu’apporte une matière par rapport à une autre. Il est donc important de ne pas se laisser berner par l’apparence d’un tissu et de toujours vérifier l’étiquette d’un article pour connaitre la matière à base de laquelle il a été tissé.

#soie #luxe #parisfrance

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matterstonki · 2 years

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Edc afterparty orlando

#Edc afterparty orlando plus

“Backyard oasis” has taken on a whole new meaning in 2021 as they have become extensions of our homes. Orlando, FL 32803 United States + Google Map Mills 50 District, 728 North Thornton Avenue When Newt Perry sank a theater into the edge of the spring in 1947, he had no idea his mermaids would become world-famous Florida icons. Orange County Regional History Center, 65 E Central Blvdĭiscover the fascinating history of Weeki Wachee Springs told through vintage photographs of Florida’s own mythical mermaids from their earliest days performing silent ballets to the heyday when ABC built them a million-dollar theater. Weeki Wachee Springs, Home to Florida’s Mythical Mermaids At the end of the tournament, the winner wins the right to ignite the BURN PILE, claiming ultimate victory! Although designed for young adult kendama players, Dama To The Death is all ages and offers a welcoming environment that focuses on community building. The rules are simple: if a player gets eliminated from the tournament, so does their kendama. Orlando, FL 32811 United States + Google Mapĭama to The Death is the official ‘winner burns all’ kendama tournament held in beautiful Orlando, Florida. November 13 10:00 am – November 14 5:00 pmĬentral Florida Expo Center & Fairgrounds, 4603 W Colonial Dr.Įxperience the world-renowned CELEBRATION OF INVENTION, CREATIVITY & CURIOSITY at the Greatest Show (& Tell) on Earth! Experience the world-renowned CELEBRATION OF INVENTION, CREATIVITY & CURIOSITYImmerse yourself in Maker culture with endless exhibits, big art and spectacle, competitions, hands-on making, and learning.ĭead Lizard Brewing Company, 4507 36th St Maker Faire Orlando - Nov 13th & 14th, 2021 Join Santa for a hot breakfast filled with fun activities at the Orlando Museum of Art! This program is part of Enzian’s cultural festival circuit and is co-presented with The Roth Family Jewish Community Center of Greater Orlando. Using the power of film to inform, educate, and most of all entertain, the festival challenges conventional perspectives on issues facing all of us. The 23rd Annual Central Florida Jewish Film Festival is a cinematic celebration of Jewish life, culture, and history. Maitland, FL 32751 United States + Google Map We hope you’ll join us for this incredible evening Saturday, November 13th in Winter Park’s West Meadow. Cows ‘n Cabs benefits charities supporting children in need in Central Florida, including After-School All-Stars Orlando and 4Roots Farm.

#Edc afterparty orlando plus

Grab your boots and dust off your cowboy hat! Cows ‘n Cabs is back! A food & wine stroll, featuring gourmet fare from 25+ local restaurants, plus wine, craft beer and spirits and live music. Winter Park, FL 32789 United States + Google Map Join us in celebrating Sparkling Holiday Traditions! Orlando Museum of Art, 2416 North Mills Avenue SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 13 Festival of Trees – Sparkling Holiday Traditions We are bringing a little bit of Nashville’s “Blue Bird Cafe” style to Orlando featuring two amazing singer/songwriters. Orlando, FL 32801 United States + Google Map Harry Buffalo Downtown Orlando, 129 W Church St Nashville Night In Orlando w/ Brice Long and Wynn Varble Join us as we celebrate 25 Years of EDC and #kineticZEN at our most epic edition yet at Tinker Field.

#Edc afterparty orlando

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somewhereblack · 3 years

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#LArtisteDuJour

#Asakan

Né le 17 avril 1975 à Mbacké dans la région de Diourbel au centre-ouest du Sénégal, Pape Macodou Fall alias Mokodu Fall est un artiste peintre et designer sénégalais autodidacte vivant et travaillant à Dunkerque en France. Dès son jeune âge, il aime dessiner tout ce qui l'observe. Remarqué à la sortie de l'adolescence par des caricaturistes du journal « Le Débat », il commence à travailler à leurs côtés et deviendra aussi plus tard le caricaturiste de la revue « Afrique Économique ». Émigré, immigré, il transite quelques temps dans certains pays européens avant de s'installer définitivement en Italie en 1996 où il s'exerce à la peinture à huile sur toile et devient un artiste peintre établi. Ce qui lui permettra d'être l'un des artistes invités de l'Afro Fashion Week de Milan en 2017 et à la Fashion Week de Milan en 2020. D'où il sortira avec une nouvelle inspiration : la peinture sur vêtements.

Grand fan de la négritude chère aux pères fondateurs de la pensée africaine moderne comme Léopold Sédar Senghor, Aimé Césaire, Léon Gontran Damas et Guy Tirolien, Mokodu Fall explore et célèbre par le moyen de ses peintures toutes figuratives la splendeur du continent africain avec une volonté de de ne pas faire de distinguo entre les espèces vivantes en Afrique qu’elles soient humaines, animales ou végétales. Ainsi bon nombre de ses oeuvres mettent en exergue les résistants, les guerriers africains, la femme noire, les animaux, la nature, les peuples du continent, ses personnalités et ses personnages les plus emblématiques de la période postcoloniale en Afrique tout en restant d'authentiques oeuvres contemporaines. Sous ces fins portraits excellemment maîtrisés, l’artiste rappelle ainsi avec précision que l'Afrique, malgré son passé douloureux et les effets d'un sous développement importé, demeure aujourd'hui une Afrique forte, noble, riche et brave. Au delà, son travail reflète également les personnes et valeurs qui ont contribué au développement de la paix dans le monde, de l'amour et des cultures urbaines. Ses vêtements désignés à la peinture laissent deviner l’étendu des expériences, des questions et connaissances d’un homme profondément ancré dans son temps et dans sa culture.

Exposé de Dakar à Rome en passant par Paris et Milan, son travail est visible sur les réseaux sociaux Facebook et Instagram ainsi que sur son site internet : www.mokodufall.net.

#ArtistsOfAfrica

#art

#contemporaryafricanart

#contemporaryart

#Sénégal

#Italie

#FranceCrédit

Images : Mokodu Fall.

#LArtisteDuJour #Asakan #ArtistsOfAfrica #Mokodu Fall #black style

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sonicringnoise · 3 years

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Jak and Daxter 30 Day Challenge:

Question #25: Favorite Jak and Daxter fanart?

Ooh, this is a good one. First of all, I love basically all the fanart I come across, (except for that one picture I found that’s Damas/Praxis, that’s terrible).

But if I had to pick a favorite artist, it would be Sardiini (though I haven’t seen them do any JND stuff in a long time).

Tumblr: https://kultasardiini.tumblr.com/

(fair warning: I have no idea why, but some of the tag links on their tumblr go to a completely different website. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ )

DeviantArt: https://www.deviantart.com/sardiini

The art style, I think, fits the Jak world really well. It’s kind of realistic, but still has that cartoony quality to it. Go check them out!

#jak and daxter #JND 30 day challenge

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chemicalmagecraft · 4 years

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Foresight is 20/20 Chapter 11

I smiled even before we reached the gates. "It looks like we have a welcome party," I noted, then licked my lips.

"How can you tell?" Gai asked.

"Chakra sensing."

As soon as we were inside the gates of the village, I was tackled by a very energetic blonde. "Kouki!" Naruto yelled as he did his level best to crush me like a tin can.

I awkwardly patted him on the back. "Heyyy, bud. Could I please breathe?" I choked out. I gasped for my breath after he released me from his adamantium grasp. "Stupid freakish Uzumaki strength," I grumbled in between breaths.

"What was that?" Tenten angrily asked me.

I rolled my eyes. "Not directed at you."

"Hey Kouki," Naruto said, "why are you all brown?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Okay first off I think technically it's more 'bronze' than 'brown,'" I said, "and b, it's called a tan."

"How did you get so tan in only a few days?" Dad asked me. "Didn't you have a parasol?"

I sheepishly put my hand behind my head. "Well..."

~~~~ku

I sighed as I lounged on the thankfully clean floor in front of the window.

"Are you sunbathing!?" Temari asked me.

"Soooo waaaarm~" I replied.

"I swear you're a cat or something."

I grinned a catlike grin. "Meow~" She sighed and stormed off.

~~~~ku

"...I guess I get tan really easily?" Okay to be fair I do. And it stays for a while, even if I stay inside most of the time. When my brother, whose complexion is almost exactly the same as mine, got a similarly dark tan from being a lifeguard, my mom noted that it was probably due to our "gypsy blood." I wouldn't put it that way myself, mostly due to the fact that the word "gypsy" is actually kinda offensive what the heck mom, but I guess it's a plausible reason... I was thankful, though, that the sun didn't give me any more freckles. No offense to people with a lot of freckles, but I'm fine with only having like ten freckles on my face that mostly just look like a bunch of beauty marks, thank you very much.

"Welcome back, niisan," Hinata said with a smile. I couldn't help but notice that Kurama didn't at all look like he was annoyed with Hinata carrying him.

"Sup, Hina-chan. Did Kurama-chan tell you guys I'd be here?"

He huffed and turned his head away from me, the tsundere.

"Love you too, bud!"

"So what are you going to do now that you're back?" Neji asked me.

I shrugged. "First I'm going to take a bath, then I'll probably take a nap or something. I'm pooped."

"Surprising to hear that from you," Ai commented.

"Even I have my limits, Ai. Working on the seal was fun, but I'm glad it's over and done with." I yawned. "Now if you guys don't mind, I'd like to go take a nice, long bath now." I waved goodbye. "Thanks for coming to greet me!"

kukukuku~

I yawned, sat up in my bed, licked my lips, and stretched my arms. Then I fell back to sleep.

kukukuku~

"Okay, time to work now," I said after I rolled out of bed. Before doing anything, though, I checked out my window. It was nighttime. I shrugged. "Not that much of a problem to someone with twenty four-plus hour days." I licked my lips. "Right, let's get crackin'." I assumed a meditative position on the floor and reached inward, to my chakra. Mostly the red stuff, but also some of the blue. Just as a human touched by the red (I.E. me or the jinchuriki) has to have over a certain amount of red chakra in them to not die, it seemed that beings made from the red needed at least some blue in them to function. To be honest, I should've figured that out sooner, what with how the Biju Dama uses blue chakra. 'Course, I did figure it out when I sensed not only another biju, but Karura, who was a non-biju red chakra spirit. And with that revelation came some important progress on an idea that I'd had. And over the ride home, I'd honed and perfected that jutsu, one that I was now ready to use. Sure, I'd been wary of potential danger, but I felt a lot better after a message from my future self, or at least a future self... Future vision can get pretty freaky.

And so, I grabbed hold of almost all of my red chakra, just leaving a comfortable yet small amount over the minimum amount I needed to live, as well as enough blue chakra to sustain a demon of that power level. I used yin-yang release and some of the mechanics behind clone jutsus in general to mold that chakra into the proper shape. When I was done, the chakra moved on its own.

I opened my eyes to see my shadow turn pitch-black, then split off into two, one normal and one still a me-shaped abyss. The ebon shadow moved and stretched so that it was across the room from me. The shadow... rose, changing in shape and color to form what felt like an alternate-universe mirror. First off, shadow me looked even more girly than I did. Sure, that wasn't saying much what with how I was still way prepubescent and had girly hair, but she had longer hair and a skirt with leggings, so there's that. Plus she looked a little shorter than me. Second off, she had what appeared to be fox ears and a tail, likely an artifact from Kurama even though they didn't look exactly like his. Third, she was both a pallette swap and mirror image of me. While her complexion was roughly the same as mine, her eye markings were white with black dots instead of black with white dots, her clothes were dark red instead of blue, her hair was a shade of blue so dark it was almost black, and her eyes were red with slit pupils. As for the mirror part, her bangs were parted to the right instead of the left and each of her freckles were situated to be on the opposite side of her face from mine. Though she had fox ears instead of human ears, I could see she still had a rendition of the nubby nub nub thing on her right ear as opposed to my left.

"I am thou, thou art I," she said in almost my voice. Man, that was weird. "Sup, me."

"Sup," I responded, then relaxed my posture. She did the same, though she was mindful of her skirt. I was already kind of sure of the answer, but... "Hey, just to be clear here, you're supposed to be a girl, ja?"

She nodded. "Ja." She blushed. "I have more control over my form than just using the transformation jutsu and I figured I should differentiate myself as much as I can from you, so..." I feel like something could be said about me that "I" felt the need to justify that even to myself...

"I take it you picked out your own name too, right?"

"Yup." She grinned. "To counter your light-light hope-and-fortune name, I picked Chikage."

"Thousand Views?" I asked jokingly.

She facepalmed and groaned. "Okay yes, I guess that that's the traditional reading, but I meant more along the lines of Thousand Shadows. Or even Blood Shadow. Heck, Shadow of the Earth is kinda cool too."

"So does that mean I have your permission to keep 'Kouki?'" I asked.

She gave me a deadpan stare. "Dude, I literally said that I picked a name to balance out yours."

"Yeah, but if you think about it, 'Kouki' is us, not me. The guy that is us combined is Kouki."

She shrugged. "Would be pretty weird if you randomly started to go by another name. You're Kouki Prime and I'm totally at peace with that. Let's stop talking about semantics and see what this jutsu of ours does, exactly."

I nodded and clenched my fist. "I think I got weaker..." I unclenched my fist and did a few small stretches.

"Makes sense," Chikage said. "Even if you aren't using it, your red chakra still enhances you. Still, that also means you should have more control now."

"Right," I said. I held my hand out and tried to make some wind chakra. It felt a little off without my red chakra, but I got the hang of it surprisingly fast. Much faster than I'd managed the last time I'd tried it, wire-thin threads of wind chakra burst from my fingers, curling around my new double/clone/sister maybe? "Sorry, but you understand what I'm doing, right?

She snorted. Curiously, a small puff of smoke came from her nose when she did. "Dude, I'm you. Of course I know. Just make sure to ask future you first to make sure it doesn't screw us both over."

"Right, was going to do that anyway." I activated my eyes for just long enough to get a message coded to a version of myself in the exact situation I was in.

"Yup. Go ahead."

I didn't want to completely spoil every single highly-dangerous-yet-incredibly-interesting experiment I did, but I knew it'd be stupid to actually do them without using the Shoraigan to make sure I didn't end up turning Konoha into a crater. And so in my time of need, I discovered another power of the Shoraigan that was just as good as the ability to tell the future. At least, I'm assuming that's what happened in about a thousand other timelines that I never went down. Or I guess I did go down them, but just not the me that is me? Man, anything involving time travel gives people headaches, doesn't it. I could only time-warp information and yet I still got headaches.

Where was I?

Oh right. Main Shoraigan power number three. Or maybe just another version of the first main power? In addition to being able to download future information directly into my brain, I found out I could send my past self and/or selves information when I randomly got thousands of very similar chronopathic messages saying something roughly along the lines of "Holy crud we can send messages to our past selves!" and some telling me to stop sending messages back to past me, which was very hypocritical of future me, but I complied. I wonder if there's a version of me who found out about the Shoraigan by having that future message sent back by an alternate version of-

"You're getting off track," Chikage said, her eyes now a slit variant of the Shoraigan. Guess that meant she could use it too despite not having my eyes(?). "Stop telling the fans about our cool new power and kill me already."

"Right, sorry." I closed my hand into a fist, causing the Wind Release: Razor Wire to chop her into pieces. Instead of blood going everywhere, though, the cuts became red chakra which reformed back into her body with some loss.

"That hurt," she muttered. "But it seems we won't find out what happens when I die if we use that. Maybe try fire?" She was made from an aggregation of the powers of Kurama (fire/wind) and Shukaku (earth/wind), so while there was some fire in her it wasn't out of the question that fire would hurt her a lot more than wind...

I nodded and we both stood up. I guess maybe it was customary to use fire chakra from the lungs, and yes that was apparently how you got the most power, but I liked the idea of channeling it through my hands better, plus that way I could try to add lightning to it despite not knowing how to do it too well. I knew fire from the hands was possible from the flashback to the time of Ninshu, so theoretically... "Do not try this at home, kids." I made a few hand seals, then held my hand like how Kakashi does with the Chidori. An unfortunately uncoordinated ball of fire and lightning chakra emerged from my palm, as well as the slightest whiff of burning flesh.

Ow.

Chikage waved her arm in front of her torso, creating either a bullseye target or the illusion of a bullseye target. I thrust the ball of plasma right into the center of the target. Her body destabilized almost as soon as the probably-poorly-thought-out concoction of chakra touched her. While some was... ruined, I guess, by the attack, the majority of the chakra Chikage was made from was sucked back into my body. With the chakra came her memories, which was... interesting. I feel like I should note, though, that getting pyrolectrocuted hurts like the dickens.

"Is everything okay?" Uncle asked as he barged in. "I heard crackling sounds."

I casually stuck my hands in my pockets. "Yeah. I tried to use lightning release. Do you think you could ask Dad if I could get official training? That kinda hurt."

He looked concerned. "Are you hurt?"

I gave him a thumbs-up with my unburned hand. "Yeah, just a little stinging. Nothing a little healing factor won't cure. You should see the other guy."

"O...kay..." He thankfully left without much question, allowing me to take the other hand out and assess the damage. The friction from just taking it out of my pocket stung.

"Eeee..." I winced. I mean, it didn't look like it was too bad of a second degree burn, but... it was blackened. I really hoped that was just soot. I applied some red chakra to it and it thankfully just flaked off and didn't scar or anything. "Not doing that again, at least without adult supervision. Hope my pocket isn't ruined..." I tilted my head a bit. "Now before I can forget, I should probably do this." I activated my Shoraigan and sent a message coded to two certain iterations of my past self. Sure, it'd have happened anyway because of diverging timelines, but insert dead Daves joke here. "Right," I said. "Now that that's over. Chikage, out." She didn't do anything. I blinked. I could definitely feel her somewhere in me, but...

Oh.

I was Chikage. Well that was interesting. I concentrated on what I'd done before and felt a small snap in the back of my head.

"I'm back," she said in my head. Red chakra flowed from my body, forming Chikage, arms crossed and leaning back onto thin air. "Is that what it feels like to fuse?" she asked.

I shrugged. "I guess maybe with Pink Steven it was, just with less nearly dying and womanchildish giants."

She chuckled and picked me up. "C'mon, we gotta do it now."

I smiled and hugged her, laughing. She hugged me back. We started laughing and spinning each other until we just melted back together. "Ah, good times," I said. "Now we should probably get a training ground so I can see what I... you... we... can do..." I sighed. "Man, this is going to be weird..."

#fanfiction #naruto fanfiction #naruto #Foresight is 20/20 #F20 CH11

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maniasera271 · 4 years

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V-e-r Mulan ( Online HD ) * Pelicula Completa 2020 * Sub Espanol

Mulán

4 de septiembre de 2020 en Disney+ / 1h 55min / Aventura, Familia, Fantasía Dirigida por Niki Caro Reparto Liu Yifei, Donnie Yen, Gong Li Nacionalidad EE.UU.

Ver Online >>> https://bit.ly/2QZw4Vw

SINOPSIS China, época de la dinastía Han. Mulan (Yifei Liu) es una joven hermosa, fuerte y valiente, hija de un respetable veterano de guerra. La joven siempre se mete en líos por no ser exactamente una dama sofisticada y, de hecho, no le ha dado muy buena impresión a la casamentera, que evalúa a las jóvenes como potenciales novias. Cuando son atacados por invasores del norte, que luchan junto a una bruja, el Emperador decide formar un ejército compuesto por un varón por cada familia. Es entonces cuando Mulan se hace pasar por un guerrero, para evitar que su anciano padre tenga que ir al frente. Así, disfrazada de hombre, logra ocupar su puesto y marchar a la guerra, donde luchará valientemente junto al ejército imperial. La joven demostrará entonces su valor, pero ¿tendrán compasión cuando descubran quién es?

Esta nueva adaptación en acción real del clásico de Disney de 1998 lo dirige Niki Caro, realizadora responsable de filmes como La casa de la esperanza (2017) y En tierra de hombres (2005).

mulan pelicula completa mulan pelicula completa 2020 mulan pelicula completa en español 2020 mulan pelicula mulan pelicula completa en español latino 2020 mulan pelicula disney mulan pelicula completa 2020 repelis mulan pelicula 2020 online mulan pelicula china Film is a work of art in the form of a series of live images that are rotated to produce an illusion of moving images that are presented as a form of entertainment. The illusion of a series of images produces continuous motion in the form of video. The film is often referred to as a movie or moving picture. Film is a modern and popular art form created for business and entertainment purposes. Film making has now become a popular industry throughout the world, where feature films are always awaited by cinemas. Films are made in two main ways. The first is through shooting and recording techniques through film cameras. This method is done by photographing images or objects. The second uses traditional animation techniques. This method is done through computer graphic animation or CGI techniques. Both can also be combined with other techniques and visual effects. Filming usually takes a relatively long time. It also requires a job desk each, starting from the director, producer, editor, wardrobe, visual effects and others. Definition and Definition of Film / Movie While the players who play a role in the film are referred to as actors (men) or actresses (women). There is also the term extras that are used as supporting characters with few roles in the film. This is different from the main actors who have bigger and more roles. Being an actor and an actress must be demanded to have good acting talent, which is in accordance with the theme of the film he is starring in. In certain scenes, the actor’s role can be replaced by a stuntman or a stuntman. The existence of a stuntman is important to replace the actors doing scenes that are difficult and extreme, which are usually found in action action films. Films can also be used to convey certain messages from the filmmaker. Some industries also use film to convey and represent their symbols and culture. Filmmaking is also a form of expression, thoughts, ideas, concepts, feelings and moods of a human being visualized in film. The film itself is mostly a fiction, although some are based on fact true stories or based on a true story. There are also documentaries with original and real pictures, or biographical films that tell the story of a character. There are many other popular genre films, ranging from action films, horror films, comedy films, romantic films, fantasy films, thriller films, drama films, science fiction films, crime films, documentaries and others. That’s a little information about the definition of film or movie. The information was quoted from various sources and references. Hope it can be useful.

❍❍❍ TV FILM ❍❍❍ The first television shows were experimental, sporadic broadcasts viewable only within a very short range from the broadcast tower starting in the 1930s. Televised events such as the 1936 Summer Olympics in Germany, the 19340 coronation of King George VI in the UK, and David Sarnoff’s famous introduction at the 2020 New York World’s Fair in the US spurred a growth in the medium, but World War II put a halt to development until Tenet the war. The 19440 World MOVIE inspired many Americans to buy their first television set and then in 1948, the popular radio show Texaco Star Theater made the move and became the first weekly televised variety show, earning Tenet Milton Berle the name “”Mr Television”” and demonstrating that the medium was a stable, modern form of entertainment which could attract advertisers. The first national live television broadcast in the US took place on September 4, 1951 when President Harry Truman’s speech at the Japanese Peace Treaty Conference in San Francisco was transmitted over AT&T’s transcontinental cable and microwave radio relay system to broadcast stations in local markets. The first national color broadcast (the 1954 Tournament of Roses Parade) in the US occurred on January 1, 1954. During the following ten years most network broadcasts, and nearly all local programming, continued to be in black-and-white. A color transition was announced for the fall of 1965, during which over half of all network prime-time programming would be broadcast in color. The first all-color prime-time season came just one year later. In 19402, the last holdout among daytime network shows converted to color, resulting in the first completely all-color network season.

❍❍❍ formats and genres ❍❍❍ See also: List of genres § Film and television formats and genres Television shows are more varied than most other forms of media due to the wide variety of formats and genres that can be presented. A show may be fictional (as in comedies and dramas), or non-fictional (as in documentary, news, and reality television). It may be topical (as in the case of a local newscast and some made-for-television films), or historical (as in the case of many documentaries and fictional MOVIE). They could be primarily instructional or educational, or entertaining as is the case in situation comedy and game shows.[citation needed] A drama program usually features a set of actors playing characters in a historical or contemporary setting. The program follows their lives and adventures. Before the 1980s, shows (except for soap opera-type serials) typically remained static without story arcs, and the main characters and premise changed little.[citation needed] If some change happened to the characters’ lives during the episode, it was usually undone by the end. Because of this, the episodes could be broadcast in any order.[citation needed] Since the 1980s, many MOVIE feature progressive change in the plot, the characters, or both. For instance, Hill Street Blues and St. Elsewhere were two of the first American prime time drama television MOVIE to have this kind of dramatic structure,[4][better source needed] while the later MOVIE Babylon 5 further exemplifies such structure in that it had a predetermined story running over its intendevd five-season run.[citvatio””&n needed] In 2007, it was reported that television was growing into a larger component of major media companies’ revenues than film.[5] Some also noted the increase in quality of some television programs. In 2007, Academy-Award-winning film director Steven Soderbergh, commenting on ambiguity and complexity of character and narrative, stated: “”I think those qualities are now being seen on television and that people who want to see stories that have those kinds of qualities are watching television.

❍❍❍ Thanks for everything and have fun watching❍❍❍ Find all the movies that you can stream online, including those that were screened this week. If you are Dos balas muy perdidasing what you can watch on this website, then you should know that it covers genres that include crime, Science, Fi-Fi, action, romance, thriller, Comedy, drama and Anime Movie. Thank you very much. We tell everyone who is happy to receive us as news or information about this year’s film schedule and how you watch your favorite films. Hopefully we can become the best partner for you in finding recommendations for your favorite movies. That’s all from us, greetings! Thanks for watching The Video Today. I hope you enjoy the videos that I share. Give a thumbs up, like, or share if you enjoy what we’ve shared so that we more excited. Sprinkle cheerful smile so that the world back in a variety of colors

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in-maidjan · 5 years

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Dama Druzna Expedition - NPCs

Primus Tiesa Durand

Tiesa Durand is a drow elf with deep purple-grey skin, violet eyes, and pale violet hair. She holds a prestigious position within the Magisterium as one of the few mages who independently monitor the conduct of the government’s Arch-Magi.

Tiesa’s duties also encompass representing the Arch-Magi’s interests, particularly when it comes to Pre-Edict discoveries. Tiesa is also an elite member of the Witnesses of Vhoq and has trained many of its members.

Though she is a reserved and highly professional member of the Magisterium, Tiesa is not frigid and welcomes liveliness and banter. She is a firm believer in second chances. Though she has mentored few Adjutor-Magi, her students are among the most valued in the Magisterium, due in part to her tough but fair tutelage and her ability to identify weaknesses and capitalise on her student’s strengths.

Magister Iphiriel Sedrinne

Iphiriel Sedrinne is an Aasimar with bronze-brown skin, golden eyes, and pale blonde hair. Though she has been offered several positions within the Magisterium, Iphiriel has elected to remain as a teacher and researcher instead.

Like many, she specialises in Pre-Edict research, and despite her young age, is one of few who has made significant progress in activating dormant artefacts. Her research primarily focuses on unlocking the latent potential in Pre-Edict artefacts, and she written several theses on the purposes of many artefacts and what their purpose was. She is, however, also fiercely competitive, especially when it comes to her research.

Iphiriel is a bubbly and energetic tutor, but also one who is unerringly attentive. Her training with the Faithful Order of the Ancients has taught her much of patience and compassion, traits she values greatly in others. She is quite an informal teacher, and has no qualms about dedicating her time outside of standard tutoring hours to support her students.

Magister Tazim Khavek

Tazim Khavek is a fire genasi with warm brown skin, dark hair, and amber eyes with a white dot in the centre of his pupil. Though young, he is one of the Academy of Arcane Arts’ finest tutors, recommended by Arch-Magus Maram themselves to instruct students in the use of wild and dangerous magic.

As he specialises in unique forms of arcane manipulation, his expertise has been invaluable in understanding Pre-Edict Artefacts and their arcane composition. His theories on Pre-Edict artefacts are controversial, though respected and valued nonetheless.

Tazim is a witty and somewhat sarcastic man, but he is caring and attentive, and his pupils know him to be a considerate mentor. He prides himself on unorthodox teachings for unorthodox magic, but places the safety of his students above his own curiosity and leaves his door, both at the academy and at his dwelling, open to his students. He has, unfortunately, been known to suggest struggling students visit local brothels to relieve stress.

Archivist Wilhelmina Wisset

Tanned with dark wavy hair and green eyes, Wilhelmina is a halfing with a passion for archaeology. Though she has only studied magical theory, her understanding of Pre-Edict Artefacts rivals even some of the elder magister’s within Alossin’s academies, and she has been an invaluable asset in the excavation of sensitive sites.

Due to her experience in unearthing Pre-Edict Artefacts, Wilhelmina is one of few who possesses the ability to discern Pre-Edict language and translate information. When she is not at an excavation site, she is developing a lexicon for Pre-Edict languages.

Wilhelmina is a diligent worker, albeit one who obsesses over her projects. She has been known to be harsh and quite rude, but it is not uncommon to see her feverishly apologising for her behaviour later.

Seeker Immeke

Seeker Immeke is a shadar-kai with brown skin, short dark hair, and golden eyes with a black sclera. As an elite priestess and hierophant within the Faithful Order of Ancients, Immeke is a devout follower of all gods but particularly worships Oedav, the mistress of truth, lies, secrets, and memories.

As her title suggests, Seeker Immeke’s calling is the discovery of truth. Though she has a number of sacred duties with the temple, she is often called upon by the Magisterium, with the temple’s permission, to aid in the unearthing of Pre-Edict artefacts.

Seeker Immeke is a reserved and tactiturn individual, but not unwelcoming. She is curious by nature, and enjoys intellectual discussions and debates.

#kites dnd oneshot; dama druzna expedition #come get yo Lore fam

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helshades · 4 years

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Hola Hel! Je t'avais il y a longtemps demandé ton avis pour un parfum "hors niche", après que mes proches m'eurent offert une carte cadeau Sephora; tes excellents conseils m'avaient conduit à découvrir L'air de temps de Nina Ricci, dont je ne me passe plus. Eh bien je me trouve dans la même situation aujourd'hui et je voulais savoir si tu avais d'autres recommandations inspirées! J'avais envisager de tester Jardins de Bagatelle, mais la politique de Guerlain me déplaît et les flacons sont laids.

Je ne me fais pas entièrement l’avocate du Diable en faisant charitablement remarquer que Guerlain n’est pas, au fond, responsable de son propre sort, dans la mesure où c’est l’acquisition de la maison par LVMH en 1994 qui a signé la déchéance artistique d’un monument patrimonial. Je partage le rêve de bien des parfumeurs de voir au moins les parfums historiques inscrits au patrimoine français – ce qui permettrait par exemple de sauvegarder des recettes et des matières premières, face au rouleau-compresseur européen.

Pierre-François-Pascal Guerlain, 1853 : l’Eau de Cologne impériale. Aimé, son fils : Cuir de Russie (1872), Jicky (1889), Eau de Cologne du Coq (1892), Jacques, petit-neveu d’Aimé : Après l’Ondée (1906), L'Heure Bleue (1912), Mitsouko (1919), Shalimar (1925), Vol de nuit (1933). Jean-Paul, petit-fils de Jacques : Habit Rouge (1965), Chamade (1969), Eau de Guerlain (1974), Nahéma (1979), Jardin de Bagatelle (1983), Samsara (1989). Et encore, j’ai opéré des coupes franches.

Thierry Wasser & Delphine Jelk : La Petite Robe noire (2012, puis environ un million de flankers), dans le flacon historique de L’Heure bleue (!!!), horreur bonbonnesque fétichisée par toutes les jeunes filles en fleur qui aiment tant se sentir unique en portant le même parfum que 73% de leurs copines (les autres porteront un machin à la vanille et au caramel).

Bon, bref, les parfums chez Sephora. Avec une carte cadeau. Euh... elle est généreuse, cette carde cadeau ? Pas au point, j’imagine, de pouvoir te conseiller la collection « Hermessences » de chez, et oui, Hermès, c’est-à-dire le « laboratoire d’idées » de Jean-Claude Ellena qui s’était fait drôlement plaisir avant la retraite, et qui m’oblige à arpenter EBay et Vinted comme une âme en peine pour dénicher des flacons de la collecque à moitié prix, au moins (235€ les 100ml, 359€ les 200ml, je vendrais mon âme pour Cèdre Sambac, j’irais même jusqu’à faire le repassage). Quoique je viens de vérifier : aucune n’est vendue chez Sephora. J’imagine qu’ils connaissent leur public, qui doit être moins désaxé que celui du Printemps – et arrête de me regarder comme ça, je n’achète rien au Printemps, je vais juste sentir, en espérant qu’une vendeuse me prendra en pitié et me glissera une pièce et des échantillons.

Donc, pas d’Hermessence. En revanche, je te somme d’aller respirer Rouge Hermès, l’extravagant floriental d’Akiko Kamei (autrefois Parfum d’Hermès, 1983, jusqu’à sa refondation en 2000, le cas excessivement rare d’un parfum amélioré par une reformulation !) qui est... Et bien, c’est un Jardin de Bagatelle sous stéroïdes, tiens, où le côté « tralala promenons-nous dans des champs totalement réalistes mais zéro bouse de vache » tout en exubérance juvénile s’est changé en sensualité tapageuse façon grande bourgeoise croqueuse d’amants mais grande classe jusqu’au bout de ses longs ongles laqués de rouge. Rouge, c’est la rencontre explosive, exponentiellement florale, de la rose (Damas, pas turque, jamais rose mais rouge, rouge), du santal (laiteux à souhait, épicé, hypnotique), de l’ylang (moins été-à-la-plage, ici, que nuit torride en forêt tropicale avec risques de venin) et de l’iris, qui apporte la poudre, une poudre de riz Art Nouveau qui aurait donné des vapeurs à Zola. Le tout souligné par des épices, du cèdre, et surtout – donnant un aspect fabuleusement ténébreux au fond – de la myrte (arbuste cousin du giroflier et de l’eucalyptus).

Comme tu as parfaitement le droit d’être terrifiée par la perspective, je m’en vais également te conseiller le grand classique 24, Faubourg (créé par le grand Maurice Roucel en 1995, complètement à contre-courant de la mode gel douche & crustacés de l’époque), qui finalement est aussi un concurrent de Jardins de Bagatelle en plus classieux : naturaliste, lumineux, floral blanc et jaune, dans l’esprit il me fait beaucoup penser à L’Air du temps, justement, à la fois délicat, sensuel, joyeux, intemporel et plein de caractère. Fleur d’oranger, jasmin, iris, ylang, gardénia, jacinthe, orange et pêche, sur un lit très doux d’ambre, c’est un parfum tout en retenue mais plein de sensibilité, élégant sans affection ni hauteur, naturel sans être simpliste, un vrai bouquet savamment composé, beau et agréable. Quant à la tenue : remarquable ! Rouge Hermès est un monstre, bien entendu, mais 24, Faubourg est suffisamment opulent pour se défendre, et son évolution est passionnante. Côté popularité, il est très célèbre mais le Jeune® ne porte pas souvent Hermès. C’est dommage, parce qu’en termes de rapport qualité-prix, on reste ici dans l’abordable.

Je ne te recommanderai les Serge Lutens qu’à sentir chez Sephora : on trouve à acheter facilement d’occasion au moins à moitié prix, alors que les tarifs en boutique grimpent pathologiquement. Tom Ford et Armani sont hors de prix, et pas nécessairement supérieurs au reste. Jo Malone aussi c’est un peu cher pour ce que c’est, l’étage en-dessous : très à la mode, un peu cheap dans la confection, personnellement je ne suis pas convaincue mais c’est à voir (à sniffer) par soi-même. J’ai vu aussi que Sephora vend maintenant des Goutal (ses titres les plus populaires en tout cas, comme L’Eau d’Hadrien, très joli mais célèbre pour son évanescence, Petite Chérie le fruité dans l’air du temps, et le magnifique L’Heure Exquise, lequel fait en revanche très mature) et des Comme Des Garçons, qui sont très intéressants dans le genre conceptuel, ce qui peut être assez rebutant suivant les sensibilités, tout le monde n’aimant pas les notes d’encre ou de bitume – personnellement je crains l’aspect parfois un peu industriel de leurs compositions mais je conseille volontiers d’aller s’y pencher dessus pour s’en faire une idée, c’est probablement plus « niche » que ce qu’on sent en grande surface parfumistique d’habitude. À découvrir.

Moins générique comme recommandation, un Chanel, ou plutôt deux Chanel, mais deux facettes d’un même parfum : N°19 et N°19 Poudré. Ce dernier étant l’un de mes jus les plus chéris, tant il est vrai que dès que l’on m’ajoute de la poudre à quelque chose, je ne réponds plus de rien. N°19, c’est un peu le parfum de la résurrection pour la maison Chanel, « Coco » s’étant retirée des affaires quelque temps, puis étant revenue accompagnée de ce concurrent à l’historique N°5, portant cette fois le nombre de sa date d’anniversaire, le 19 août. Gabrielle Chanel mourut quelques semaines après le lancement de ce parfum, ce qui lui confère un rien de nostalgie vintage encore accentué par ses célèbres notes poudrées, très vertes, en fait une alliance de galbanum (le vert) et d’iris (la poudre) extrêmement élégante et sophistiquée. Le vert absolu, bien sûr, c’est l’ancien Vent Vert de Balmain (Germaine Cellier, 1947), et N°19 en est un successeur transparent, mais plus sage. Malgré tout, sa tête où les belles fleurs blanches sont précédées par la férule gommeuse (le galbanum est une gomme-résine longtemps utilisée dans des thériaques pour ses propriétés médicinales, adorée en parfumerie pour ses notes puissantes, balsamiques et herbacées) caractéristique et un peu dérangeante, et les fleurs sont posées sur un fond cuiré, boisé de cèdre, lié de vétiver et de mousse de chêne qui leur confère une espèce de fraîcheur ténébreuse envoûtante. La version véritable est bien l’eau de toilette et non l’eau de parfum, mais la déclinaison N°19 Poudré est une eau de parfum arrondie de muscs blancs, plus douce sans doute, peut-être plus sensuelle encore.

Oh ! ça me fait penser: Mémoire d’une odeur, chez Gucci. Étonnant objet d’Alberto Morillas, à la fois léger et complexe, c’est une étrangeté fascinante dont l’amertume herbeuse surprend beaucoup. En gros, c’est une camomille, très réaliste d’ailleurs, mais c’est bien plus que cela, Morillas s’étant complu à mettre avant des notes habituellement réservées au bruit de fond en parfumerie, comme l’hédione et le salicylate, de sorte que la composition est incroyablement aérienne, moelleuse comme un nuage, impressionniste. Un parti pris vraiment différent des fragrances ci-dessus évoquées, à sentir pour se faire une autre idée du parfum.

#tu as eu le temps de devenir professeur à l'isipca en attendant ma réponse #mais qui ne tente rien n'a rien #et se déshonore au passage en gagnant une réputation désastreuse sur tumblr #gallomancy #raiponses #anonymoustachus

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les-monumentales · 4 years

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Jane Nardal

NARDAL Jane

1902-1993 Écrivaine et essayiste France

Jane Nardal et sa sœur Paulette Nardal ont tenu un rôle majeur dans la genèse de la négritude, mouvement culturel et politique d’émancipation et de réflexion sur la condition noire.

Jeanne dite « Jane » Nardal naît en Martinique d’un père ingénieur et d’une mère institutrice. Ses parents tiennent salon et s’efforcent de donner à leurs sept filles le goût des arts et de l’engagement politique. Jeanne rejoint sa sœur Paulette à Paris, où elle entame des études de littérature à la Sorbonne. Elle est la première noire agrégée de lettres classiques.

Le Paris de l’entre-deux-guerres voit se développer un mouvement sans précédent, la négritude. Des intellectuel·es noir·es revendiquent leur singularité, leur fierté d’être noir·e et rejettent l’assimilation culturelle. Ce bouleversement politique est porté par la littérature. Batouala, véritable roman nègre de René Maran dénonce le colonialisme et reçoit le prix Goncourt, les revues engagées se multiplient. La négritude est influencée par la Harlem Renaissance qui renouvelle en profondeur la culture noire américaine aux États-Unis.

Si le nom négritude est créé en 1936 par un homme, Aimé Césaire, les femmes occupent dès l’origine une place déterminante au sein du mouvement. Nancy Cunard, une Anglaise installée en France, publie en 1934 un recueil célèbre d’écrivains, poètes et penseurs noirs. Suzanne Roussi Césaire a dans la réflexion de son mari une importance capitale.

C’est chez les sœurs Nardal enfin, qui animent un salon littéraire à Clamart, que se réunissent les figures du mouvement et que naissent et se transmettent les idées au cœur de la négritude. On y croise Léopold Sédar Senghor, Léon-Gontran Damas, René Maran, Aimé Césaire et d'autres venus d'Afrique et des États-Unis, tel Claude McKay, figure de la Harlem Renaissance.

Jane lance en 1928 La Dépêche africaine, organe officiel du Comité de défense des intérêts de la race noire. Elle y publie des articles qui, appelant au réveil de la conscience noire, au renouveau noir francophone et à la constitution d’une identité noire diasporique, jettent les bases théoriques de la négritude. Avec Paulette, elle crée La Revue du Monde Noir dans laquelle elles appellent à un réveil des intellectuels et un internationalisme noir. Elles y dénoncent la colonisation et contribuent, par un important travail de traduction, à faire connaître poèmes, essais et romans américains.

Jane rentre en Martinique en 1929 où elle continue son travail de diffusion de la culture noire américaine, en tentant notamment de faire connaître le blues. Elle correspond assidûment avec Paulette, restée en métropole, afin de poursuivre la réflexion qu’elles ont initiée ensemble. Elle devient enseignante sur l’île puis au Tchad et tente de se lancer en politique. Après des réactions hostiles et voyant sa santé décliner, elle se retire de la vie publique. Elle meurt en 1993.

Son apport déterminant à la négritude, ainsi que celui de sa sœur, a longtemps été occulté. Ce sont trois hommes Léopold Sédar Senghor, Léon-Gontran Damas et Aimé Césaire qui ont recueilli les lauriers de cette aventure collective. Paulette Nardal écrit ainsi :

« J’ai souvent pensé et dit, à propos des débuts de la négritude, que nous n’étions que de malheureuses femmes, ma sœur et moi, et que c’est pour cela qu’on n’a jamais parlé de nous. C’était minimisé du fait que c’étaient des femmes qui en parlaient. »

Une promenade du XIVe arrondissement porte aujourd’hui le nom « Jane et Paulette Nardal ».

#Lettres #éssai #littérature #militante #négritude

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mahamassa88 · 4 years

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Ilaf HAIDAR / L'influence de la technologie sur les pratiques picturales

1.1. Introduction :

Depuis la seconde moitié du 20e siècle, la création artistique a été marquée par le développement des nouvelles technologies (de la vidéo au numérique). L’art et la technologie sont inséparables. Cependant, ces techniques ne sont pas des instruments faciles à manipuler, l’artiste est appelé à chercher une corrélation entre ces instruments et ses préoccupations : « Chacun des artistes (…) se trouve un représentant des principales technologies nouvelles, c’est-à-dire du laser, (…) de l’ordinateur, des télécommunications, (…) et de l’art virtuel… » 1.

2.1. L'influence de l'ordinateur sur les arts :

« Paradoxalement... les chercheurs recourent aux machines dans un effort pour redéfinir la créativité humaine.2 » Jonathan Benthall

L'appareil photo et la caméra vidéo fonts des influences sur le développement des Beaux-Arts. Bien que ces avancements technologiques ont leur signification, leur influence dans le passé ne peut pas se comparer avec la présence de l'ordinateur dans notre société aujourd’hui.

Photomontage Pierre Chamberland

« L'infographie comme un art doit pouvoir dire quelque chose de pertinent concernant le monde où nous vivons ; nous ne pouvons pas produire stupidement les natures mortes et les motifs de papier peint3 » Richard Wright

L'ordinateur, l'invention la plus influente du vingtième siècle, pénètre dans chaque aspect de la société. Les ordinateurs ont non seulement changé la communication et l'industrie de transformation, par exemple, mais aussi les ordinateurs commencent à remplacer beaucoup d'instruments technologiques du passé. La photographie numérique remplace de plus en plus la photographie traditionnelle, et encore par exemple les programmes numériques utilisés par les architectes remplacent, dans beaucoup de cas, les dessins faits à la main.

Des exemples :

a) L'Atelier des Lumières (à Paris), ouvre avec Klimt

L’Atelier des lumières, nouveau lieu d’expositions consacré aux arts numériques, à Paris avec la présentation en projections, en format géant, d’œuvres du peintre viennois Gustave Klimt (1862-1918).

https://www.france.tv/france-2/telematin/483941-expo-l-atelier-des-lumieres-klimt.html

A l'aide de 140 vidéoprojecteurs et au son des valses et autres musiques de la Vienne de la fin XIXe siècle, les œuvres du peintre autrichien s'animent et habillent les 3.300 m² de surface de projection de ce nouveau lieu baptisé Atelier des Lumières, situé dans le XIe arrondissement. C’est "la plus grande installation numérique de ce type dans le monde", assure Bruno Monnier, le président de Culture espaces, la société privée en charge du lieu qui ouvre au public ce vendredi avec cette première exposition.

b) DAVID HOCKNEY addict aux technologies

David Hockney, peintre et photographe de talent, est né en 1937 au Royaume-Uni. Il est aussi graveur et réalisateur de décors.

PEARBLOSSOM HIGHWAY (1986)

Le tableau de Hockney est un photocollage de 119.2 x163.8 cm exposé au Jean Paul Getty Muséum de Los Angeles. Durant 8 jours, Hockney prend 650 photos de cette route à différents moments de la journée d’où le sous-titre de l’œuvre : 11-18th APRIL 1986. De ces 650 photos, il va extraire environ 3000 morceaux qui serviront à la création du tableau.

(Les deux photos de gauche) Extrait de l’interview de Hockney par Huell Howser à l’occasion d’une rétrospective au musée d’art moderne de Los Angeles 1988. (La photo de droite) Extrait de l’interview de Hockney par le Getty Museum 2 Février 2012.

Pour les objets, il adoptera une technique précise de prise de vue où sa volonté est de faire un focus sur l’objet qui l’intéresse. Pour cela, il utilise un escabeau qui lui permet de prendre des photos des panneaux de signalisation de près et de face. Il se positionne alors de telle manière que l’on voit le ciel le moins possible. Ces prises de vue sont la base même de son travail et permettent de comprendre ce qu’il a cherché à nous faire ressentir lorsqu’on regarde le tableau : c’est tout le travail de composition et de perspective. Nous sommes en effet face à chaque détail hors perspective globale. Voici par exemple, un cadrage correspondant à la photo du panneau : on voit le « focus » sur l’essentiel c’est-à-dire la signalisation. Hockney se place tout à fait dans la définition de l’artiste que nous livrait Balzac : « la mission de l’art n’est pas de copier la nature mais de l’exprimer ». L’avantage de sa technique est que chaque objet a une mise au point parfaite ce qui ne serait pas le cas s’il avait travaillé à partir d’une seule photo.

Ilaf HAIDAR

I. Son parcours

Ilaf Haidar née en 1984 à Pontoise (France). Diplômée des Beaux-Arts de Damas en Syrie et d’un Master 2 en Arts en France. Maintenant, elle prépare sa thèse de doctorat “Peinture et Nouvelles technologies: Un rapport croisé” à Amiens. Par les matériaux et différents médiums utilisés, elle interroge notre environnement et son évolution, au niveau pictural.

Au début elle faisait de la peinture très académique, c’est à dire : copier le réel. Elle a commencé avec des natures mortes, des modèles vivants. Avec l’Ecole, elle allait en ville, surtout dans l’ancien Damas, pour dessiner et peindre l’architecture.

II. L’évaluation de sa pratique artistique au fil du temps

Après quelques années, elle commençait à s’ennuyer dans sa pratique artistique : tous les jours faire les mêmes dessins. À force elle a besoin de faire quelque chose de nouveau. Par exemple si elle dessinait une bouteille d’eau, elle faisait d’abord toutes les nuances de couleurs et de noir et blanc qu’elle voyait. De 25 nuances, elle passait à dix puis finalement plus que quelques-unes. Et même, au lieu de dessiner une ligne de séparation, Ilaf laissait un espace vide et elle laissait l’œil dessiner cette ligne. Elle n’utilisait jamais de couleur noir, elle trouvait que ça rendait le tableau « sale », pas propre. Alors elle évitait toujours. Pour son projet de fin d’étude elle avait une sorte de liberté et de révolution. Dessiner ce qu’il reste de ses rêves, c’était ça son début vers l’abstrait.

III. L’approche au technologie

Elle ait commencé l’accès à internet vers 2005. Elle S’y est intéressée et presque à la fin de Ses études aux Beaux-Arts. Elle voyait beaucoup de photographies sur internet, et ce qui s’attirait le plus c’était les photos de l’espace. En même temps, elle a commencé à travailler un peu sur des logiciels comme Photoshop, Illustrator, In Design. Elle avait participé à une exposition en tant que jeune artiste, en 2008, une collaboration entre artistes syriens et artistes autrichiens, avec pour thème commun La vie sociale et chacun était libre de faire ce qu’il voulait. A cette époque elle avait pris des photographies de feu. Dedans, Ilaf imaginait des personnages alors elle a travaillé à faire du photomontage sur Photoshop. C’était le début pour elle du Digital Art. Utiliser autre chose pour continuer à faire de la peinture.

Dans sa thèse elle s’interroge sur l’influence de la technologie sur les pratiques picturales. Au cours de son Master, elle a découvert que c’est la vision qui change. Bien sûr, si la vision change, cela change aussi la perception et la façon dont on fait les choses. Sa thèse c’est pour aller en profondeur de ces choses-là. Sans parler d’éducation, un bébé aujourd’hui naît presque avec un portable dans les mains, quelle est sa vision des choses ? Est-ce qu’elle est capable de communiquer avec lui alors qu’elle est d’une génération où il y avait un peu des deux : l’avant et l’après apparition des nouvelles technologies ? Les enfants, toute leur vie ils auront un écran devant eux, donc quelle est leur perception de la réalité qui les entoure, leur rapport à la matière ? C’est tout ça que Ilaf a besoin de comprendre.

IV. La peinture ou l’ordinateur ?

Quand elle est sur l’ordinateur, la peinture lui manque, et la matière brute. Quand elle peint, la luminosité de l’écran lui manque. Elle n’arrive pas à abandonner, ni l’un ni l’autre. Avec l’utilisation de nouvelles technologies, elle ne voyait plus la peinture de la même façon. Car, sa vision et son perception au monde, et son utilisation de la couleur, ont tous changés. Car avec les nouveaux médias elle s’est mise à utiliser du noir dans ces peinture. Donc ça à tout changer en vérité.

Un exemple de l’utilisation de la technologie:

"Dans ma tête" :

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4k06kR98jXI&feature=youtu.be

À partir de la photographie de la rue ( Photographie d'une rue en Syrie, HAIDAR Ilaf, 2010), j’ai fait une peinture sur papier (150cm * 108cm) (Photographie de la peinture de la rue). J’ai photographié cette peinture et je l’ai utilisée dans ma vidéo. J’ai utilisé aussi une photographie d’un fragment du Mur pour la paix lequel j’ai pris à Paris Photographie de Le Mur pour la paix).

https://www.ilafhaidar.com/video

V. Inspirations et influences

C’est tout ce qu’elle voit, tout ce qu’elle ressent. En général, pour commencer à peindre un tableau, elle ferme les yeux et elle pense à une sorte de souvenir, comme un zapping d’images dans sa tête, jusqu’à voir une image qui me donne des sensations.

Elle dit : parfois les gens ont du mal à comprendre l’art abstrait, pour eux c’est un peu n’importe quoi. Mais si tu fais un très gros plan sur un œil ou un visage, ce qui ressort ce sont des formes abstraites. Les germes ou les bactéries, quand on les regarde au microscope, il y a des choses fascinantes. Pareil avec des morceaux de pierres. C’est abstrait car c’est différent de ce qu’on a l’habitude de voir, mais ce sont des choses qui existent, c’est dans la nature. Pour moi, il n’y a rien de ce qu’on appelle « abstrait », car tu ne peux pas dessiner une ligne qui n’existe pas dans ta mémoire. Mais c’est difficile de définir l’abstrait. Alors j’accepte que quelqu’un aime ou pas mes tableaux, car j’ai l’impression que l’important c’est de ressentir les choses. Soit tu le ressens soit tu ne le ressens pas.

Une fois elle était influencée par deux films : (A star is born) et (Bohémian rhapsody) et elle a décidée de faire quatre tabules en série (noire et bleu).

Un autre exemple, elle était inspirée par un verre cassé :

Cycle du verre 2015 :

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XvvGc_VhvFM&feature=youtu.be

Le verre est fragile, il peut se casser facilement, mais le feu reforme le verre et redessine sa forme. Nous sommes justes comme lui, on est fragile, mais les obstacles dans la vie recréent notre personnalité :

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AB9rxYLtVe0&feature=share&fbclid=IwAR0ON791RdzoFASzK0uEuKzOsih37uNzhGNDQafGYIZUfkyM0GZ3Gc9-nAg

Musique par Ilaf haidar

Son couleur préféré est le jaune (l’effet soleil de l’orient)

L’entretien avec l'artiste plasticienne ILAF HAIDAR :

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XYqN72EMM8I&feature=youtu.be

Notes:

1. Dominique Berthet, L’audace en art, Ed. L’Harmattan, Paris, 2005, p.122.

2. "Paradoxically, such researchers are resorting to machines in the effort to redefine human creativity." p. 52.

3. "Computer graphics as art must be able to say something relevant about the world we live in; we cannot mindlessly churn out still-life sand wallpaper patterns."

Sources:

https://www.ilafhaidar.com/digital

http://homes.chass.utoronto.ca/~wulfric/lexperimenta/puzniak/

https://www.espacestemps.net/articles/arts-scenes-et-nouvelles-technologies/

https://ricasso3.weebly.com/linfluence-de-differentes-technologies-dans-lart.html

https://www.francetvinfo.fr/culture/arts-expos/peinture/l-atelier-des-lumieres-nouveau-lieu-d-exposition-a-paris-ouvre-avec-klimt_3282551.html

https://artzerotrois.wordpress.com/2015/06/05/david-hockney-peintre-precurseur-de-la-technologie/

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readfelice-blog · 6 years

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Moominland Chronicles achtzehn: Gran Torino

Hello, let’s just jump straight in shall we?

Oh, no wait, firstly, have a look at Colin Self’s Siblings (which is surprising and delightful in certain places, I’m only on my first listen though so havent got to its core yet.)

https://colinself.bandcamp.com/album/siblings

And something a bit more Italian for you, Franco Battiato, who was the essence that was channeled vicariously in the naming of LA LUCE AL BUIO,

-Un’ora Con…

….Makes for very interesting listening, there's a clangers track in there, though I’m not sure if that's what Franco was going for it definitely made me smile:

This is fetus (a track off the album but it's hard to source online so might be a spotify / google play search tbh) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cd_59SCLlZY

Well then, Turin’s right nice.

I got a plane at 6:30 in the morning, the wing of the airport I was leaving from was closed when I got there.

This time I got a seat on the bus to get to the airport. My seat was directly in front of a mentally disturbed man who was walking up and down the aisle for the entire journey. He eventually got blocked in by other passengers boarding, he had a strange distant smile, I can't say it wasn’t disconcerting, but it was also curious and strangely beautiful.

He disappeared when we arrived at Tegel, I doubt he was getting a plane, though who knows, perhaps he was some fractured billionaire burnt out from all the money he was juggling.

After customs took their seats and sent me through the barriers I sat to wait for the cafe to open, wrote my diary: which is another thing im doing now, in case you're not content with one ‘Felice’s tell all story’ - theres now a rawer instagram only version charting my journey through ‘восем acht ocho’ as well, its totally unedited bile and thoroughly embarrassing - I’m not re reading / editing it, but it’s the best way to keep track of all these publications being haphazardly launched around Central Europe.

The airline I was flying with was called Lauda, some subdivision of Ryanair, who I bought my ticket through, all the staff had Ryanair uniforms on and the plane was a Ryanair plane.

Last week I was a bit mad on death, I read Michel De Montaigne’s essay ‘To philosophize is to learn how to die’ and then put its message into practise - looking for and becoming acquainted with death wherever I went, envisioning it in the lamp light of darkened streets, the glass eyes of dolls and even under the toilet seat.

Lauda was death, a Ryanair flight would never crash, not in my mind, but a Lauda flight could….

We left Berlin in fine weather, we travelled to a sunless sky framed by thick blocks of grey. As we went along the turbulence was unbearable, I am not an easy flier, perhaps I've not done it enough, but also I’m riddled with anxiety before I even get in the sky, one small shake is ok, but a continuous rattle for 20 mins and the safety belt signs coming on whilst still mid journey does not fare well with me. I was utterly convinced at one point that it was the end of my relatively short but eventful time on earth and glad I’d written my last requests before I left, though much more scared than I wanted to be.

Breathe deep, it does work.

Just as we descended and the spectre of death rescinded I suddenly realised how incredible the view was outside my window and eagerly attended to the sight of clouds upon clouds, a dense celestial cacophony lit by the golden rays of the sun. We passed through this heavenly land, everything becoming hazy and disappearing into the fog of vapor.

When we landed the plane applauded the pilot, clearly I was not the only person on board so terrified that if I’d clenched my fists any tighter they’d have snapped off my wrists.

Our pilot deserved those claps, he flew us close to death but was strong enough to skim it rather than be sucked in.

The airport was the same as last year,

no wait no it wasn't because I flew to Milan

and then had two train rides to Torino (Turin), the second train was very pleasant, trains are nice in Italy, they have power ports under the seats and are 2 floors like double decker buses. I think some of them are like that in Germany to.

This year I was officially in Italy, joyfully attached to my window, taking in the edge of decay that skirted wonderful quaint yellow houses, one glass fronted building bursting out of another which contained hundreds of lamps in different shades and sizes. Studying the people, handsome and somehow and open, there was a vividness to their faces that arrested me.

And I was in Italy when I got off the train and walked on to the streets of Torino, it wasn’t Paris or Berlin or Helsinki or Cork, it wasn't the setting where I would be saved by a man I’d never met before.

It was captivating and full of heart.

Firstly, my ableton tote that held 3 publications needed attending to, I neatly veered towards Piazza Statuto, reputedly a potential gate to hell, this little trip would chart me walking from dark to light.

It was raining as I stood under the jagged rocks and mangled bodies of the Monument, I’d been panicking that the rain would ruin these labored over gifts , where would I leave them?? Not in toilets, especially not disgusting piss sprayed italian cafe toilets, they were worth more than that, as with much of my life I stepped back a little from this worry and just trusted that something would present itself.

A couple approached me after a short time of being stood in front of the gates of hell, they asked in Italian, then English, for me to take a photo of them, I talked myself down from chucking my parcel in their direction and then launching myself the opposite way. This turned out to be sensible, as the opportunity then presented itself, in the form of a thick tree stump, under the gaze of the tortured stone faces. It had once been a pair of trees, but now in the wet air of the afternoon, it was one tree and one monument of a tree, the remaining oak sheltering its lost compadre with thick branches still full of leaves.

They were off the beaten path, in truth I wondered if it would be found, the person that might spy it would have to be observant and sensitive: children would find it, but I don't want kids to find these books, there's some art smut not for children's eyes bound inside the covers.

The act of leaving this gift was much easier than I envisioned, it turns out you can do all sorts of things in plain sight and most people won’t even bat an eyelid, at least not in Torino that day.

I really like Italy now.

I left it, then I zipped off to a nearby cafe to have a cup of tea (coffee is to strong for my delicate disposition these days). Last year I spoke to no one for days, but after months of not being able to speak German in Germany, not being able to speak Italian in Italy wasn't quite such a big deal.

The cafes I visited remind me a bit of Amelie, who I couldn't find in Montmartre, she had somehow transferred herself to Torino.

This one was brightly lit, glass cases of cakes and thick sandwiches hugged the floor, then the bar followed round behind them, I blundered through asking for tea, was given a pot of water and a tray of teabags, i just took all the teabags unthinkingly and then considered the inadequate ratio of tea bags to water.

D’oh,

They were returned to the counter and I parked myself outside to start my diary.

When I went in to pay at the end I found out that it was the lady, on her own little island aside from the bar, nestled amid nik naks and sweets, who was the person i should give my money to. I chuckled a bit to myself for my lack of common sense, the staff had big smiles on, it was a happy place I left, it was a happy place I had entered.

Then to Piazza Castello, but via Dama art fair.

In the rain it suddenly struck me how incredibly sensible and kind all these covered footpaths were, graced by arches and gorgeous decorative embellishments, they sheltered the people of the city and provided ample space for outside seating, whatever the weather. Because, the people of Torino like to be outside even when they’re inside, lots of cafes have glass paneled structures adjacent to the main building, so you can always eat on the street.

I sidestepped the main street, a direct passage from dark to light, to go to Dama art fair, a smaller less commercial affair than Artissima, set inside a baroque palace. It announced itself calmly, no fanfare and the first room you entered was empty, aside from sound, then into a journey, maps stretched across the wall, details of the passage overhanging the main plots, drawings and observations, in monochrome.

Dama art fair was elegant, but not arrogant, against the gorgeously decadent furnishings and trimmings of the palaces rooms quiet art pieces, drawings and sculptures mainly, investigating and working with form, sat just ebbing and pulsating in the atmosphere of the surroundings they inhabited. On arrival upstairs, after dumbly staggering around a courtyard for about 15 mins with a wealthy and well dressed man and his companion, who were also very friendly.

He “Its the most secret art fair in the world”

Me “You have to work for your art”

On arrival you were greeted by ‘THE END’ : woven fabric around big wooden words hung from the ceiling between two large blue speakers.

“How do they know?” I wondered to myself - “How do they know that this is my ending, here in Torino?”

No sign of a beginning though, I guess I will find it somewhere else.

Then back out onto the street again and walking past high street shops to the Piazza Castello. On my straight line from dark to light.

I’m glad my bag is light, you don’t need much to travel.

It’s raining and overcast, but the Piazza Castello is opening up in front of me like a beacon of light, it’s not an angel that stands in its centre, which I expected to find, but a man, I feel like he's a logician, an academic, an emblem of reason and enquiry. I haven’t done my research because I like to work with impressions and weave my own kind of mysticism into what I find as I walk around, so I don’t know who he is.

The piazza is huge, on my left to horseback riders announce a big art gallery where curious visitors stand in bunches waiting to go inside, on my right are white fronted buildings, all majestic and grand, there is so much room to breath here. But where do I leave my publication? I circle the statue and then spy what looks like a plinth, a kind of chalice almost, I imagine it’s filled with the elixir of life but as I get closer I find it’s actually an ashtray, its covered though and as I take a turn about it I notice that the wise man in the centre of the square is pointed towards me.

It might be an ashtray but it’s the right place, I’m more confident this time as I prop my publication on its rim, take a photo and then walk away. I’m noticing though that I barely take in the surroundings I find when I’m doing this and then I get panicky and run away, I make a note to myself that after all this work I need to sit where I lay my gifts, I need to draw them and understand them, be able to describe them to myself for years to come. Quick photographs don’t give enough time to what I’m doing.

I then arch off and look for food, because I’m hungry. Lots of people seem to be gathering about a nearby pizza shop, like a chicken headed tourist I join the crowd, I’ve decided I’m allergic to lactose and wheat but hey, I’m on holiday, when you’re abroad your hysterias change.

I get myself a ‘Gran Torino’ and then I eat it there on the street, wrapped in paper, there’s a man sat down nearly opposite, the first homeless man I’ve seen here, we don’t interact but I pay him mind, I don’t want to make him invisible to suit my view. As I’m just stuffing the last of the delicious breaded cheese feast into my mouth I enter another cafe, pulled in by its ample outside seating and its corner position, I don’t want any more tea but they have freshly squeezed orange juice, yes please.

Whilst sat outside I am approached 3 times at my table, twice by Italians looking for somewhere to eat, who are very friendly when they find out I’m not Italian and go on their way cheerily. Once by a woman pushing a very young girl and braced little boy who very aggressively asks for money, her young son and her stand and shout at me for a few minutes whilst I refuse to give them anything then go off into the surrounding city, they shout in Italian and I think to myself that it’s probably not the best way to ask for charity, but maybe it works for them sometimes.

I’ve already experienced more interaction with people in a few short hours than I did in the 4 days I was here last, who am I this time? I’m not the same person that traipsed miserably up and down these streets 12 months ago.

Nowhere is this more profound than on my walk to my air bnb, the wet warm air and clouds hug incredible views down each street that I walk past, as I look to my left I can see the glorious green hills that surround the city, I can feel the magic that is rife here, and I notice the Italians going about their daily lives so full of energy and vitality. There’s a spring in my step every cm of the way that I walk.

My air bnb host is a superhost, I’d actually settled to stay alone but my trip was cancelled a little while before I went to Paris and her place was available, I’d taken it because I wouldn’t be alone, because even though my stay in Paris was not great I’d appreciated having someone there when I got to my accomodation and I’d wanted to repeat that more sensibly this time, with a private room rather than a sofa bed in common space.

The house is spotless, she is a compact and very handsome older woman, it feels safe, I feel like I’ve been here before. We can’t really communicate, she cant speak English and I can’t speak Italian, it’s frustrating but we manage somehow. I have my own private bathroom in this house and a little tidy bed with soft pillows that make me realise the one I have in my room at home is far to hard and unfriendly.

I have a nap, which I’ve promised myself since getting aboard the plane, I get into my pajamas and lie in bed for 3 hours, half awake. Whilst I’m spread out in my little bed I listen to the noise that surrounds me, the young family that live next door chatter and argue and laugh, the birdsong echoes outside my window, the sound of cars and the church bells fill my ears, they are resonant, like a chorus. I find my demons lurking inside me, but I just face them and then have a little stretch and turn over, we are a multitude of traumas and triumphs, not just one but several people and in order to rest we must be able to live with all these voices inside us, come to terms with them and pull them together to fight for us.

Because life isn't simple or easy all the time, no human is not inflicted at some point in their lives and it's very important when you face problems to be able to know who you are, so that you can love yourself whilst you receive the madness of the world.

I get up when it’s dark, thinking I’ll order a taxi to the AC Hotel, I shower and furnish my face with glitter, put on my blue velvet dress. I’m not excited, but it's what I must do and so I will go to the AC Hotel with my last publication stowed under my arm, to the garden where last time I had invested so much hope, though I know logically now that it's not the key to this trip, in some ways I’ve already lived what I came here for, but I must re walk these steps to release myself from the past and move forward.

I end up walking because buses and trams are to complicated and the taxi doesn’t come.

Before I get to the hotel I want to eat, the cafe I went to last time is closed but there is a gelato shop on the opposite side, with a hot pink table, totally empty. I’ve still not had any gelato in Italy and as I used to work in a gelato shop it's something I’d like to try.

Its an old couple that own the shop, I get the most gelato I possibly can: fior di latte, amaretto, pistachio, in a great big cone, I’m treating myself because I’m not drinking and I need the energy. Though I worry it’ll make me puff up I eat it enthusiastically at the hot pink table whilst looking out at the rainy streets of Lingotto, considering the other desserts in a glass case by the window.

I’m quite a sight tonight, in blue velvet and glitter, my red tousled hair brushing my shoulders, I can tell its made an impression on the owners of the shop, who buzz about, welcome a customer that seems like a friend, go about their lives surrounded by all these delicious sweets.

Once I’m done I consider leaving my last publication there as well, but think better of it, sling it over my shoulder and continue to the AC Hotel.

Everyone’s so good looking once I get inside the hotel, a smorgasbord of chic sportswear and chiselled faces, I don’t look anyone in the eye whose not a member or staff so I manage to kid myself that people are who they are not to suit my fantasies. I go upstairs to an ‘installation room’ which is some led lights and a person fiddling on a laptop, the room is filled with people socialising, I go downstairs to try and see if I can get into the secret rooms, but the hostess, after flirting for about 15 minutes and ignoring me, gleefully tells me there are no rooms left, except lust at 21:40, its 20:00 ish, I don’t know what I would do whilst waiting for that room and actually of all the rooms lust is not whats in my heart right now, I do think about just taking it to prove a point but really I’m not petty enough to sit in this place bored for over an hour waiting to go upstairs.

Clearly the secret rooms will remain secret to me.

I don’t get a drink because I don’t drink (alcohol).

I go to the garden, there’s a lot of people gathered around the door and I push through them to find space and to consider where to leave my publication, it's still raining.

This garden is not the Garden of Eden tonight, perhaps it never was, now its a concrete courtyard with a tree and some grass in the dipped area, and rain streaked white seats on the raised platform I’m standing on. It's not the Garden of Eden, its a hotel courtyard. Where do I put my publication?

Just past the crowd, behind a shrubbery, there's a window sill thats large enough to perch on, which is sheltered from the rain, it's quite hidden but it seems like the place. I sit in the cove and have a cigarette then I get out my book and place it where I’ve been sitting, take a photo and scamper off. The last of the 3 now placed in Torino.

After this is is a kaleidoscope of moments: wandering around a shopping centre, which is called 8, going up escalators to unravel the triple 8 scrawled on a door before me and see where the seeds were sown. The venue and Aphex twin and all his lasers, scurrying from room to room through intolerably long hallways to watch a myriad of vocalists, dancing about in various places, realising that the toilets were never that bad, as long as you manage to effect a good squatting position. Finding out that question marks are not always doorways that open to fantasies being realised.

I stand and wait for a taxi for an hour behind women with artist badges around their necks.

I Get home after a 20 minute detour because my taxi was invaded by impatient people.

I Sleep.

In the morning I wake up in good time despite not getting my full 8 hours (or anywhere close to this) I wander out and make tea, I try to talk to my host but it’s very difficult, though I’ve noticed the traces of her in the flat, the handmade lemon body wash, the single malts, the honey. Eventually after starting a note to her I just use the paper in my hand to write what I am saying, my London accent is always a problem wherever I go but she understands written English. This works:

“It took me 90 minutes to get home last night.

12:30 > I’m going to shower, my aeroplane is at 3:30 (15:30)

So hopefully I have time

I like to have a lot of time

Biggest stress

Lots of people don’t understand my accent because I mumble”

Me and my host have a strange connection, she is another angel, she sees my fragility and the sadness that sits at the basin of my eyes, she offers me food and shelter, I can feel her heart wrapping around me and giving me warmth. I go to sit outside and wait for my taxi 20 minutes in advance, she comes and brings a sock I’ve left in the flat, as we embrace its tight and full of love, not like the hug of strangers, like family. Later she tells me via email that I am always welcome, that I am a friend now and friends don’t have to pay to stay with her.

I will go back to that house and those church bells, though I can’t say exactly when.

My ride home is flawless, as I sit on the mezzanine over looking TXN airport, a beautiful well proportioned space where you can look out at the snow capped mountains, I listen to a man playing drukqs by aphex twin on the piano below me and I let go of Turin, of last year and all the residual pain that I brought here when I came before.

There’s no need for me to go back to that festival again, there’s other places and new journeys I must embark on.

I enter Turin a mangled and not very good musician, I leave Torino a curious and dignified artist, that sings. I let art return to me and realise it never really left, I will always be an artist whatever I do.

That's just me.

85 publications to go….

#aphex twin #torino #turin #travel #self growth #dama art fair #piazza castello #piazza statuto

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soniakasart · 6 years

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Diseño del trono de la Dama de Baza para la mascota que representa a Baza en Fitur, Feria Internacional de Turismo, en Madrid.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ Mascota Dama de Baza para Fitur. Encargo personalizado de moniOJOtes. Ayuntamiento de Baza, Granada. Tinta pigma micron y color digital. Enero 2019 ©Soniaka's Art⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ***⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ Design of the throne of the Dama de Baza (Lady of Baza) for the event mascot representing Baza in Fitur, International Tourism Fair, in Madrid.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ Dama de Baza (Lady of Baza) event mascot desig for Fitur. Town council of Baza. Personalised moniOJOtes commission. Pigma micron ink and digital color. January 2019 ©Soniaka's Art ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

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chemicalmagecraft · 5 years

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I Would Totally Kick Jiraiya’s Butt Chapter 11

I smiled even before we reached the gates. "It looks like we have a welcome party," I noted, then licked my lips.

"How can you tell?" Gai asked.

"Chakra sensing."

As soon as we were inside the gates of the village, I was tackled by a very energetic blonde. "Kouki!" Naruto yelled as he did his level best to crush me like a tin can.

"What was that?" Tenten angrily asked me.

I rolled my eyes. "Not directed at you."

"Hey Kouki," Naruto said, "why are you all brown?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Okay first off I think technically it's more 'bronze' than 'brown,'" I said, "and b, it's called a tan."

"How did you get so tan in only a few days?" Dad asked me. "Didn't you have a parasol?"

I sheepishly put my hand behind my head. "Well..."

~~~~ku

I sighed as I lounged on the thankfully clean floor in front of the window.

"Are you sunbathing!?" Temari asked me.

"Soooo waaaarm~" I replied.

"I swear you're a cat or something."

I grinned a catlike grin. "Meow~" She sighed and stormed off.

~~~~ku

"...I guess I get tan really easily?" Okay to be fair I do. And it stays for a while, even if I stay inside most of the time. When my brother, whose complexion is almost exactly the same as mine, got a similarly dark tan from being a lifeguard, my mom noted that it was probably due to our "gypsy blood." I wouldn't put it that way myself, mostly due to the fact that the word "gypsy" is actually kind of offensive what the heck mom, but I guess it's a plausible reason... I was thankful, though, that the sun didn't give me any more freckles. No offense to people with a lot of freckles, but I'm fine with only having like ten freckles on my face that mostly just look like a bunch of beauty marks, thank you very much.

"Welcome back, niisan," Hinata said with a smile. I couldn't help but notice that Kurama didn't at all look like he was annoyed with Hinata carrying him.

"Sup, Hina-chan. Did Kurama-chan tell you guys I'd be here?" He huffed and turned his head away from me. "Love you too, bud!"

"So what are you going to do now that you're back?" Neji asked me.

I shrugged. "First I'm going to take a bath, then I'll probably take a nap or something. I'm pooped."

"Surprising to hear that from you," Ai commented.

kukukuku~

I yawned, sat up in my bed, licked my lips, and stretched my arms. Then I fell back to sleep.

kukukuku~

To be honest, I should've figured that out sooner, what with how the Bijū Dama uses blue chakra. 'Course, I did figure it out when I sensed not only another Bijū, but Karura, who was a non-bijū red chakra spirit. And with that revelation came some important progress on an idea that I'd had. And over the ride home, I'd honed and perfected that jutsu, one that I was now ready to use. Sure, I'd been wary of potential danger, but I felt a lot better after a message from my future self, or at least a future self... Future vision can get pretty freaky. And so, I grabbed hold of almost all of my red chakra, just leaving a comfortable yet small amount over the minimum amount I needed to live, as well as enough blue chakra to sustain a demon of that power level. I used yin-yang release and the general idea of clone jutsus in general to mold that chakra into the proper shape. When I was done, the chakra moved on its own.

I opened my eyes to see my shadow turn pitch-black, then split off into two, one normal and one still a me-shaped abyss. The ebon shadow moved and stretched so that it was across the room from me. The shadow... rose, changing in shape and color to form what felt like an alternate-universe mirror. First off, shadow me looked even more girly than I did. Sure, that wasn't saying much what with how I was still way prepubescent and had girly hair, but she had longer hair and a skirt with leggings, so there's that. Second off, she had what appeared to be fox ears and a tail, likely an artifact from Kurama even though they didn't look exactly like his. Third, she was both a pallette swap and mirror image of me. While her complexion was the same as mine, her eye markings were white with black dots instead of black with white dots, her clothes were dark red instead of blue, her hair was a shade of blue so dark it was almost black, and her eyes were red with slit pupils. As for the mirror part, her bangs were parted to the right instead of the left, that one freckle of mine that looked like a beauty mark to the left side of my lip was over on the right, and that other freckle that used to be a second beauty freckle near my left eye back in the Before Times when I wasn't a magical toddler being the only freckle by my right eye were the most obvious clues. Though she had fox ears instead of human ears, I could see she still had a rendition of the nubby nub nub thing on her right ear.

"I am thou, thou art I," she said in almost my voice. Man, that was weird. "Sup, me."

She nodded. "Ja. I have more control over my form than just using the transformation jutsu and I figured I should differentiate myself as much as I can from you, so..."

"I take it you picked your own name too, right?"

"Yup." She grinned. "To counter your light-light hope-and-fortune name, I picked Chikage."

"Thousand Views?" I asked jokingly.

"So does that mean I have your permission to keep 'Kouki?'" I asked.

She gave me a deadpan stare. "Dude, I literally said that I picked a name to balance out yours."

"Yeah, but if you think about it, 'Kouki' is us, not me. The guy that is us combined is Kouki."

I nodded and clenched my fist. "I think I got weaker..." I unclenched my fist and did a few small stretches.

"Makes sense," Chikage said. "Even if you aren't using it, your red chakra still enhances you. Still, that also means you should have more control now."

She snorted. Curiously, a small bit of smoke came from her nose when she did. "Dude, I'm you. Of course I know. Just make sure to ask future you first to make sure it doesn't screw us both over."

"Right, was going to do that anyway." I activated my eyes for just long enough to get a message coded to a version of myself in the exact situation I was in.

"Yup. Go ahead."

I didn't want to completely spoil every single highly-dangerous-yet-incredibly-interesting experiment I did, but I knew it'd be stupid to actually do them without using the Shōraigan to make sure I didn't end up turning Konoha into a crater. And so in my time of need, I discovered another power of the Shōraigan that was just as good as the ability to tell the future. At least, I'm assuming that's what happened in about a thousand other timelines that I never went down. Or I guess I did go down them, but just not the me that is me? Man, anything involving time travel gives people headaches, doesn't it. I could only time-warp information and yet I still got headaches.

Where was I?

Oh right. Main Shōraigan power number three. Or just another version of the first main power. In addition to being able to download future information directly into my brain, I found out I could send my past self and/or selves information when I randomly got thousands of very similar chronopathic messages saying something roughly along the lines of "Holy crud dude we can send messages to our past selves!" and some telling me to stop sending messages back to past me, which was very hypocritical of future me, but I complied. I wonder if there's a version of me who found out about the Shōraigan by having that future message sent back by an alternate version of-

"You're getting off track," Chikage said, her eyes now a slit variant of the Shōraigan. "Stop telling the fans about our new power and kill me already."

"That hurt," she muttered. "But it seems we won't find out what happens when I die if we use that. Maybe try fire?"

Ow.

"Is everything okay?" Uncle asked as he barged in. "I heard crackling sounds."

I casually stuck my hands in my pockets. "Yeah. I tried to use lightning release. Do you think you could ask Dad if I could get official training? That kinda hurt."

He looked concerned. "Are you hurt?"

I gave him a thumbs-up with my unburned hand. "Yeah, just a little stinging. Nothing a little healing factor won't cure. You should see the other guy."

"O...kay..." He thankfully left without much question, allowing me to take the other hand out and assess the damage. The friction from just taking it out of my pocket stung.

"Eeee..." I winced. I mean, it didn't look like it was too bad of a second degree burn, but... it was blackened. I really hoped that was just soot. I applied some red chakra to it and it thankfully just flaked off and didn't scar or anything. "Not doing that again, at least without adult supervision. Hope my pocket isn't ruined..." I tilted my head a bit. "Now before I can forget, I should probably do this." I activated my Shōraigan and sent a message coded to two certain iterations of my past self. Sure, it'd have happened anyway because of diverging timelines, but insert dead Daves joke here. "Right," I said. "Now that that's over. Chikage, out." She didn't do anything. I blinked. I could definitely feel her somewhere in me, but...

Oh.

I was Chikage. Well that was interesting. I concentrated on what I'd done before and felt a small snap in the back of my head. "I'm back," she said. Red chakra flowed from my body, forming Chikage, arms crossed and leaning back onto thin air. "Is that what it feels like to fuse?" she asked.

I shrugged. "I guess maybe with Pink Steven it was, just with less nearly dying and womanchildish giants."

She chuckled and picked me up. "C'mon, we gotta do it now."

kukukuku~

A/N: So yeah, two formatting quirks that are going to happen at least some of the time from now on. First, ~~~~ku is used whenever the narrative enters or exits a flashback. Second, while almost all of this is going to be from a first-person perspective, now there's going to be more than one narrator. Who is the same person. To avoid confusion, I'd like to clarify now that Kouki prime is the default and anyone else will be noted. And next chapter we get to see more special super awesome powers. And Konoha will almost get destroyed!

#I Would Totally Kick Jiraiya's Butt #fanfiction #IWTKJB CH11 #naruto #naruto fanfiction

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