Gabriel Orozco — Untitled (tempera, gold leaf, on linen canvas, 2023)
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the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.
three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.
two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.
their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.
one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.
i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.
i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.
and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?
you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.
a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.
someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.
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I got my hair cut the other day and of course I had to draw the dca boys running a hair salon:
Sun would be so effortlessly charming. Always chatting away with customers, explaining each product he uses and how to best maintain and style their hair.
Moon I can see being popular with the less chattier customers (like me) but over time they begin to open up. I imagine he hums while working. Otherwise, he's all ears for the newest gossip.
(The clipped up hat idea came from @bamsara's solar lunacy doodles!)
Also I love the popular headcanon that the dca can speak other languages, so I can imagine them being a hit with the aunties.
The full sketch page under cut! And some of my other thoughts
Other thoughts about this... AU? Can I call it an AU? Feels kinda small for an AU, but whatever:
Eclipse works there too! Haven't decided if it would be canon or fanon Eclipse, though I really like the image of 4-armed Eclipse working on 2 clients at once (plus, the nickname Clip is perfect for this scenario)
of course they're great with kids! They'd be able to console kids that get scared of getting their hair cut. Sun would do a little trick and tell them how good and brave they are all the way through. Moon would console them and hum a soothing song (or hey maybe they notice the kid's wearing a disney shirt and starts humming some showtunes). Every kid gets a candydrop and a balloon on their way out.
y/n works at the hair salon as a part-timer and does tasks around the salon like sweeping, arranging bookings, washing hair, etc. They don't really care too much about their own hair, but the boys are always offering to style it, dye it, braid it. With y/n's permission, the boys always toy with their hair—patting it, combing their hands through it, brushing it over y/n's ear, ruffling it.
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Calypso and the Pink Unicorn's pirate drag show !!!!!
[PRINT] - [COMMISSIONS]
Wee john served so hard it should be illegal 16 dead countless injured, I am dead Calypso was so hot
Process (and my french rant on why I hate the choice of la vie en rose) below vvv
Final without the text
Rough colors
Sketch !
Sorry english people, but what follows is too french an opinion to voice in english (I'll sum it up for u in the end <3)
Ok alors je suis désolé, Con o'Neill chante vraiment très bien ca n'a rien avoir avec sa performance, mais vraiment la vie en rose c pas possible. Le man est sur les champs Elysées a me vendre des tours Eiffel en plastique jpp- Franchement pipe et jambe de bois ca serai mieux passer. Ou les demons de minuit !!!!pourquoi pas les demon de minuit ?????? Chanson hyper connu française. Ok c moins cucu que la vie en rose, mais bonus point plus kinky (je pensais jamais decrire les demons de minuit comme etant kinky mais here we are-)
Ou juste n'importe quoi d'autre-
(And words of wisdom from my evil advisor @quijicroix : légende vivante (de Lorenzo) ça va avec tout. Ou une chanson triste de jul (pas bande organisée, tu peux pas ken dessus). Après tout le monde déteste la police ou nik le front national c les chansons les plus romantiques que je connaisse. Y a santiago aussi, avec le gros mat la. Les trois mâts, pour le steddyhands.)
Tout sauf la fucking vie en rose pitier (meme si, encore une fois, Con o'Neill la chante vraiment bien)
Welcome back english people ! To sum it up : la vie en rose is a french song for tourists that set up a fight or flight reaction in every native speaker. I'm glad people enjoyed this, but I cannot describe the cringe and disappointment I felt when they decided to have him sing this song- (even tho he sings it beautifully (which is part of the disappointment))
They are SO MUCH love songs in french, why this one.
PS : at this point (ep7) I don't know why Stede is still bothering with Ed "I'm hitting the banks didn't tell him which one" teach, when Izzy hands is right there ????? Sir please open your eyes
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