#fiddle playing

[theanxiousbookdevourer]

A Collection of My Favorite Parenthetical Asides in Disco Elysium:

[atthebell-moved]

found a pillager outpost in a cherry grove so i remade it in pink

[westywallowing]

my favorite scene redraw from S5E13: "Migration"

[unofficialchronicle]

Tom Spiers plays and introduces Cruel Mother (Child Ballad) 

[iscariotapologist]

God's favorite instrument is the human nervous system

[glfry]

Can we agree that the "Thats two things" line from Mike was autistic as shit

[gece-misin-nesin]

No but I HATE it when fanfics/canon/rhato (🤢) make Black Mask Jason's archenemy or someone reaaaaally dangerous he has to deal with. What the fuck. Did you even read utrh??

[ricky-mortis]

He’s such a goofy silly guy!

[2bluetwo85]

Remember Oscar saying that “his hindsight is my foresight” about Mark?

[dizzybizz]

raghh

[diioonysus]

memento mori

[jbm04]

My modern AU Harrowhark works as a high profile art conservator. Specializes in oil painting.

This is something her family is known for.

Like… when the Vatican wants a painting restored, it has to be done by a Nonagesimus.

She doesn’t do original work but she has spent the majority of her life working on a piece called The Body. It’s been passed down in her family for generations. It’s unfinished. It’s shrouded in mystery.

She’s probably not okay.

Look, I just didn’t want to do Dr. Harrowhark.

I wanted something where she could work alone and be considered exceptional at. Yeah it’s not bones but it feels like it’s something she could do in a dark room with a series of very specific spot lights.

So that way when Gideon is standing in the way she can go, “you’re in my light” as a kind of disembodied voice from the dark.

[geniemillies]

hii im back with more tamliiiin

he's my little princess, pls take good care of him 🤲❤

[whomst-yall]

they are Going Through It

[the-darkestminds]

I know Tamlin was playing absolute bops at solstice

[notbecauseofvictories]

My best friend and I had a call recently---she’s back with her family for a bit helping out with some hometown stuff. As part of the stuff, she’s been going through a (deceased) relative’s scrapbook, compiled in the American Midwest circa 1870-1900 and featuring mostly cut-out figures from the ads of the day.

She talked about how painstaking this relative’s work was. (Apparently the relative was careful to cut out every finger, every cowlick; this was by no means carelessly or hastily assembled.) But she also she talked about how---the baby on the baking soda ad is ugly, it is so ugly, why anyone would clip this heinously ugly illustrated baby and paste it into a scrapbook? Why would you save the (terribly told, boring) ghost story that came with your box of soap?

(Why include these things in the first place? we asked each other. ”There’s a kind of anti-capitalism to it,” she mused.)

And we discussed that for a bit---how most of the images, stories, artists, and ads were local, not national; they’re pulled from [Midwestern state] companies’ advertisements in [Midwestern state] papers, magazines, and products. As a consequence, you’re not looking at Leyendecker or Norman Rockwell illustrations, but Johann Spatz-Smith from down the road, who took a drawing class at college.

(College is the state college, and he came home on weekends and in the summer to help with the farm or earn some money at the plant.)

But it also inspired a really interesting conversation about how---we have access to so much more art, better and more professional art, than any time in history. As my bff said, all you have to do to find a great, technically proficient and lovely representational image of a baby, is to google the right keywords. But for a girl living in rural [Midwestern state] of the late 1800s, it was the baking soda ad, or literal actual babies. There was no in-between, no heading out to the nearby art museum to study oil paintings of mother and child, no studying photographs and film---such new technologies hadn’t diffused to local newspapers and circulars yet, and were far beyond the average person’s means. But cheap, semi-amateur artists? Those were definitely around, scattered between towns and nearby smallish cities.

It was a good conversation, and made me think about a couple things---the weird entitlement that “professional” and expensive art instills in viewers, how it artificially depresses the appetite for messy unprofessional art, including your own; the way that this makes your tastes narrower, less interesting, less open.

By that I mean---maybe the baby isn’t ugly! Maybe you’ve just seen too many photorealistic babies. Maybe you haven’t really stopped to contemplate that your drawing of a baby (however crude, ugly, or limited) is the best drawing of a baby you can make, and the act of drawing that lumpen, ugly baby is more sacred and profoundly human than even looking at a Mary Cassatt painting.

And even if that isn’t the case....there was this girl in [American Midwestern state] for whom it was very, very important that she capture every finger, curl, and bit of shading for that ugly soap ad baby. And some one hundred years later, her great-something-or-other took pains to preserve her work---because how terribly human it is, to seek out all the art we can find that resonates with us, preserve it, adore it.

It might be the most human impulse we have.