#i also drew this for my art appreciation class! the reference is woman with a parasol by claude monet :D

[chairkind]

termina is upon us

[catxsnow]

DRAW ME D.W.

Summary: Damian never knew his drawings could lead to something so great. Older!Damian

Warning: the cringiest reference but I couldn’t help it, fluff

A/N: I’ll say it once and I’ll say it again, Damian’s skills are not showcased enough 

Gif not mine

Word Count: 2.3k

Everyone knew how amazing of an artist Damian Wayne is.

He would sketch whenever there was a pencil and paper in front of him no matter if he was supposed to be paying attention to something or not. He loved to draw, to paint, it was the easiest way for him to express himself since words and actions didn't come out as easily to him.

Damian would draw anything and everything. He drew his dog, batman, even the gargoyles that he would perch beside in the dark of night. Drawing was his escape and not to brag about it, but he was pretty damn good at it too. Bruce was always impressed by his son's skills.

He began to challenge himself more - drawing things that were more realistic. He had nearly perfect Titus and was almost there with his father. However, when it came to drawing you? Damian had dozens of sketches of you, each one not coming near to how perfect you really were.

You and Damian had been friends since he stepped foot in Gotham - at least you considered him a friend for that long. You met him at school, first day of class and bumped right into him. Damian yelled at you - calling you dumb names for being so careless. Lucky for him, you were on a good day.

Rather than some snarky response that surely would have gotten you a one way ticket to the principals office, you smiled at him. Damian was taken aback by your response, he wasn't used to this kindness. You had apologized to him, asking if you could make it up to him by buying him lunch that day.

For some godforsaken reason, he agreed.

The two of you had been best friends ever since. It had been years since that day, the two of you were older now - fresh out of high school and awaiting university that fall. You planned to spend as many hot summer days with Damian was you could. He did just the same.

Over the years that the two of you had been friends, Damian had gained these... feelings, for you. At first, he was unsure of what they meant but after a talk with his brother, Dick, he had confirmed them. Damian had a crush on you, and for the first time in his life, he was scared of something.

He didn't want to tell you that after all these years, he had fallen in love with you. There was no way that he was willing to risk your friendship, you were his closest friend besides Jon. Besides, with him being Robin, it was way to dangerous for you to be involved anymore in his life. It was easier for him without you knowing his secret.

So, he kept his feelings hidden. He hid his blush every time you would touch him or kiss his cheek. He hid his desire to hold you in his arms. He hid his endless drawings of you, each one trying to perfect the happiness that was in your eyes.

"Whatcha drawing?" It wasn't very often that someone could sneak up on Damian - rare, in fact. However, he was so engrossed on his sketchbook that he didn't even hear you walk into his room. Damian nearly jumped out of his chair at the warmth of your breath against his cheek.

You rested your chin on his shoulder and wrapped your arms around his upper body from behind. Damian wanted to lean back into your touch, he wanted to turn his head just enough that your lips would touch. Instead, he stayed still, twirling his pencil between his fingers.

"My mother," Damian responded. He had the upper half of Talia drawn and was just starting on the details of her lower body. It was excellent work so far, especially being from memory. It was rare to ever see him talk about his mother, you never really asked about her in case it was a sensitive topic.

"She's beautiful," you commented. Damian nodded his head. He set his pencil down on his desk as you pulled away from him. "I was wondering if you wanted to go to the art show with me this afternoon. They have some new pieces I've been dying to look at and you're the only one that's going to appreciate them."

"I'd love to," Damian agreed to your plans.

"Perfect, you didn't really have a choice," You grinned. "Now get dressed, it starts in less than an hour and I want to be the first ones there."

"Get dressed?" Damian raised an eyebrow. You chuckled and looked him up and down once before meeting his eyes again. He looked down at himself, just to realize that this whole time he had been in nothing but his boxers. A blush crept up his neck - he hadn't left his room all morning and had completely forgotten to put on clothes.

"I think you some how got more fit since the last time I've seen you half naked." You didn't think that it was possible for that to happen, but here you were. Damian was in impeccable shape, and you never could understand why. He never did it to impress woman and he wasn't narcissistic enough. Either way, you didn't complain about the view.

"I'll meet you down stairs," Damian avoided your compliment.

"I think I like the view too much to leave," you leaned against the doorway. Damian stood in the middle of his room, obviously feeling uncomfortable under your gazing eyes. After all this time, he still wasn't used to your flirting. You did it a lot, which had made him realize his feelings for you even more. It also made him a hell of a lot more confused about how you felt about him.

"(Y/N)."

"Okay, short-stack," you finally agreed. Upon first meeting Damian, you had been much taller than him. Now, he towered over you after a massive growth spurt. He hated the nickname even more than he did when you were in fact taller.

"I'm taller than you now!"

><

Damian had never felt his heart flutter more than he did at that art show.

You looked so effortlessly beautiful as you admired the paintings. The way your eyes lit up as you talked about a certain piece to him made his breath catch in his throat. He didn't even care about looking at the art, he was too distracted by you the whole time. You were the only art he ever needed to admire.

The whole time you nearly dragged Damian around by his hand. You wanted to see everything, to appreciate ever stroke of the paintbrush. It was incredible just how talented these people were. You never acknowledged art until meeting Damian, he had been the one to get you into the history of it all.

By the time that you left the show, you were nearly skipping down the street with excitement. The most beautiful smile wouldn't leave your face. Damian wanted to see you like this all the time. He wanted you to be happy and never to be tainted by the darkness that was in his life.

Damian had offered for you to join him back at his home. You agreed, of course. The number of hours in the day couldn't compare to the hours you wished to spend with him. Damian was the one person that you didn't think you could ever get tired of seeing. You just hoped that he felt the same way.

It was raining as you came back to his home. The short walk from the car to his front door had left you both soaked to the bone. You hair stuck to your skin and your clothes were nearly see through. It was pouring out, but that was nothing new for Gotham.

Damian offered you a set of his clothes, which you happily accepted. He left the room while you could change into his sweats and hoodie. They smelt like him - an intoxicating scent that always lingered on your body from being with him so much.

A cold gust from his window sent a chill down your spine. You closed his window and wrapped your arms around yourself in hopes to warm up.

The sketch book that he had been using that morning was still opened. However, instead of the drawing that he was doing of his mother, it was on a page of you. It was incredible how he had perfected this drawing of you. From every flaw on your face, to the mixed colors in your eyes. He had done an excellent job.

You carefully grabbed the book from his desk, flipping through the pages of everything that he had done in the past several weeks. Damian was never particularity excited to show you his work, but he didn't hide it from you either. As you turned the pages, you realized just how many times he had drawn you.

They were beautiful. Damian had come back into his room, assuming that you were dressed. His eyes immediately went to the book in your hand and his eyes widened. The last thing that he needed was for you to think of him as a creep for drawing you without your knowledge.

"Dames, this is incredible," you gawked at his work. "Like holy shit, this looks like you just took a picture of me, of everything in here! Why have you never showed me these before, I love them."

"You do?" Damian asked. He didn't realize how much your praise of his work would mean to him until hearing it.

"Yes!" You exclaimed. The smile that Damian loved grew and grew on your cheeks. You sat down on his bed, gesturing for him to sit next to you as you went through each page of the book. You complimented each of his drawings and expressed how good of an artist he was.

It wasn't until you reached one of the more recent drawings of yourself did you pause. You could feel Damian tense next to you as you stopped on the page. He had forgotten the drawing. It was of you - just like every other one in this book - however, around it were dozens of tiny little hearts. The corner of the page read 'my beloved' in the most beautiful calligraphy you had seen.

He had drawn it on a day that he found particularly difficult to hide his feelings for you. Drawing it out had been the only reason he hadn't blurted it out.

"I love this one," your finger tips outlined one of the larger hearts on the page. Damian let out a breath of air that he didn't realize he was holding. You looked up at him, trying to figure out what was going through his head in that moment. He was always a closed book and as much as you had gotten used to it, he still frustrated you.

"I love you," Damian blurted out. His eyes widened at his words and you could see the panic growing on his face. He didn't mean to say it out loud - it wasn't like him to just admit how he was feeling. "Fuck, I didn-"

You didn't let him finish whatever kind of bullshit excuse that he was going to come up with. No, Damian Wayne was a once in a life time kind of person and there was no way that you were going to let him talk himself out of whatever the hell was thinking. So, you did the first thing that came to mind.

You grabbed Damian by the collar of his jacket and pulled him in so you could kiss him. You kissed him with more passion than you ever had for art, with more love than you could have for yourself, and with more confidence than you had ever given off. You kissed him like you had been waiting for this moment since the first time you saw him.

It took Damian nearly too long to pull himself out of his shock and kiss you back. His hands went up to the side of your face with more tenderness than he thought he ever had. This was the kiss that he had been waiting for, for years. Just as he had imagined it, it was perfect - just like you.

"I love you, too, Damian," you confessed. It had been just under a year since you realized your feelings for him. The yearning for him never went away until the second your lips touched. "Fuck, do I love you."

"I should have shown you those drawings earlier," Damian chuckled. He brought you in for another kiss. Without pulling away, you set the book down on his desk once more so you could crawl up his bed. Damian didn't miss a beat and hovered over you. His legs trapped you below him and his arms caging you in even more.

You threaded your fingers through his hair, tugging right at the roots to elicit a quiet groan from him. Damian trailed wet kisses down your neck as his hands slid up the sides of your shirt. He pulled it over your head, and took in even more of your beauty.

"I think I've got a new drawing project for you," You offered, playing with the hem of his shirt. You had just seen him without it that morning but the small taste of it wasn't enough. You needed more, you needed him. A coy grin threatened your smile as you continued your plan for him.

"Draw me like one of your french girls."

[petersspidey]

Art Class

A/N: Just another quarantine fic.

Summary: the four times Steve drew you, and the one time he didn't…. (except that's not a good summary. It's really just five times steve drew you,)

Warnings: Ok so… Pornographic pictures linked and you'll literally understand why when you read it and yes I did have to dig through (what's left) of the porn side of Tumblr… and smut lmao - also if the pictures didn’t link I'm rly sorry. I tried to make them :( 

Masterlist 

You were sitting in the lounge of the Avengers compound mid-quarantine. It had been weeks, and you were still inside. None of you had really gone out despite the fact that most of you were super-human in some way, Others of you were not. You, Tony, Pepper, and Natasha were all human, and didn't have any immunity to the virus.

You were sitting in the lounge reading your book when Steve came to sit down with you. You smiled at him when he sat down.

He shuffled awkwardly in his seat for a few moments.

"Panties in a twist?" you laughed, looking up from your book.

"No,"

"Well then what's up?" you asked

"I have to favour to ask you…" he said, still shuffling around in his seat

"What is it?"

"Well, the thing is, I'm-I-I am taking a class at Columbia and because of the quarantine classes moved online obviously and I was just wondering if you'd be free to help me with an assignment…"

"What class is it?" you asked

"W-well it's a life drawing class and I was hoping you'd be able to model for me. Usually a model would come into class and we'd draw them, but since we can't do that…."

You thought for a second, "Sure, Steve. I don't really have much else going on," you joked

You moved to go back to reading before Steve continued, "There's one more thing though…"

"What is it?"

"I-it's a nude life sketching class…."

You froze for a moment. Taken aback.

"Nude…?" you asked

"Yeah… l-look if you d-don't want to do this you don't have too. I-It's just t-that we have to sketch a woman and I figured that between the three women in the compound you would be the least likely to hit me when I asked,"

You laughed… "I can definitely see Nat hitting you, but I don't think Pepper would hit you if you asked her…"

"Yeah but Tony would…" Cap pointed out.

You sighed, and thought hard for a moment, "Look, Steve…"

"I'm sorry I asked, Y/N, I can just find images online or something," Steve said, cutting you off.

You laughed, "Steve, if you google images of naked women you're just going to end up finding porn, so…"  you took a deep breath "I will help you, as long as you promise not to make it awkward."

"I promise. I really appreciate it Y/N,"

You sighed, "Just let me know when you need me to strip for you Steve,"

Steve blushed, "T-thanks, Y/N,"

The first time Steve drew you, when he opened his bedroom door it was more than awkward.

You stood in front of him, still fully dressed.

"What do I do now?" you asked.

Steve scratched the back of his head awkwardly, "Uhm...get undressed…"

You nodded, and began taking your clothes off. You could see Steve out of the corner of your eye, trying not to make it obvious you were staring.

"I didn't realize you had so many tattoos…"

You nodded, "Uh, yeah, I have 8. They're not really in places you can see them unless you see me naked,"

Steve smiled.

"Where do you want me?" You asked, standing in front of him, completely unclothed.

"Uh, if you don't mind I was going to get you to actually sit on my bed, and lean against my headboard,"

You nodded, and turned to face Steve's bed. HIs bed was messily made, with his all white sheets gently strewn across the bed.

Steve stepped in front of you and moved the pillows out of the way. You sat down, and leaned your back against the headboard.

"Can… can i touch you?" Steve asked

You were taken aback for a moment, "Uh...What?"

Steve stopped, "Oh god. I meant can I touch your legs to move them?"

He was blushing.

You nodded.

Steve lightly touched your leg, bringing it up so it was folded up against your body. He moved the other so it was crossed in front of you. He lightly grabbed your arm, and laid it out on the pillows beside you. He lowered your shoulder of the arm resting on the pillow.

(I tried to describe this as best as I could, but please look at this post for reference).

"Can you stay exactly like this?" he asked

"Yes," you said softly.

Steve moved away from you, and sat on a chair that he has seated at the very end of his bed.

He sat there and just stared at you for a moment, before looking down at his sketchpad and began sketching.

You watched Steve intently.

His eyes never really met yours, he just looked between you and his sketchpad for what seemed like hours. It was hours.

When Steve was finally done, he smiled down at his image, and then looked up at you, finally making eye contact.

"So can I get dressed now?" You asked

Steve chuckled a little, "Yes, you can get dressed now,"

You climbed off his bed, and grabbed your clothes from where you had placed them.

"Can I see it?" you asked.

Steve stood from his seat, and walked toward you holding his drawing.

He handed the book to you, and you stared down at yourself.

You had never seen anything so well drawn. You could see every shape and curve of your body. Every line, every stroke was of you. Your hair strewn over your shoulder, and the tattoo on your ribs, it was all there. The softness of your face, and the few freckles on your nose that everyone claimed not to see, Steve drew them.

"Steve… this is amazing,"

"Thanks, Y/N," Steve said, smiling down at you.

"No, Steve, I mean it. I don't think I've ever seen anything so amazing with my two eyes,"

Steve blushed again, "Thanks, Y/N, it means a lot."

The second time Steve drew you, it was in his room again. He got you to lie down on your stomach on his bed. You used your arm to prop yourself up, so you were almost on an angle. You were completely naked again. Steve's white sheets covered your legs, coming all the way up to the bottom of your butt. Your long hair was strewn on the pillow behind you.

You couldn't see Steve. But you wished you could. You liked the focused look on his face the last time he looked at you, and the small blush that came across his cheeks every time he looked at your breasts.

When he was finished, he came over to show you. He sat down beside you on the bed, as you sat up and took the drawing in your hand. He had done it again. It was beautiful. You saw every wrinkle in the sheets, the small curve in your spine, you could almost see the texture of your skin.

"Steve, this is beautiful. You're really talented," you smiled at him, handing him back his drawing.

He felt proud of his work, "Thanks, Y/N,"

You sat beside Steve for a moment, leaning on his arm, the two of you admiring his work.

The third time Steve drew you, he avoided the bed. He got you to stand in front of him. Once again, completely naked. It was less awkward this time. You were almost used to walking into his room and stripping.

He got you to stand rather close to him. He positioned you to look down, your hair falling in front of your face. He placed your hand across your chest, resting just above your breasts. Your other hand placed gently on your face.

You were afraid that it would be hard standing this way for too long. Steve assured you that you'd be fine and you could take a break if you needed.

You watched Steve draw. He was so focused. It was odd watching him stare directly at your bare breasts. But it didn't feel wrong. You smirked, seeing Steve blush while drawing your nipples. Maybe it was weird for him, you thought. While you always had thought you would get naked for Steve one day, this wasn't exactly what you had expected.

When he was finished drawing, you raised your hands high above your body, stretching. You were sore from standing in the same position for so long. But this time, when Steve was done drawing, he didn't look away.

You sat down on the edge of Steve's bed, still completely naked. You saw Steve shift in his seat, uncomfortably. He leaned over and handed you the drawing.

You smiled, looking at it. It was just as beautiful as the last two.

"I have to say, Steve. I never really think of myself as looking beautiful, especially not while I'm naked. But when I look at these drawings, I don't know how you do it, but it makes me look beautiful," you said.

Steve looked at you, "What do you mean y/n? You're always beautiful,"

You blushed, "Thanks, Steve."

The fourth time Steve drew you, he got you back on his bed. You lied on your side, using one arm to prop yourself up on your pillows. Once again you rested your hands on your chest, just above your breasts. One of your legs was crossed under the other, and one out straight.

Just like the other times, Steve moved you into position. Lightly touching you, always making sure not to touch your boobs or butt.

This drawing took particularly long. You had to take breaks through this piece, it was hard to keep yourself propped up on one arm for so long. During your breaks, the two of you would chat like it was nothing that one of you was naked.

When Steve would go back to drawing, you couldn't help yourself. Your eyes always trailed down to his pants. Everytime he drew you, you couldn't help but wonder if it turned him on just as much as it did you.

It was sometimes hard to tell though. Often enough his sketchpad was resting on his lap. And, Steve's pants were always kind of tight, you assumed it was due to his large package, and it was always hard to tell if he was hard. But, with every chance you got while he was drawing, you looked anyway. And from what you could see, he was hard the whole time. Just like how by the end of the drawing sessions, you were wet and knew for a fact that if your panties were still on, they'd be soaked through.

"Steve this is amazing,"

"Thanks. I really appreciate your help, Y/N. My professor has really loved my last few pieces. I'm on track to get an A in the class,"

"Steve! That's awesome!" you smiled

"It helps having a such a beautiful muse,"

You somehow always left each other blushing.

The fifth time Steve drew you, Steve had you stand in front of him again. This time, your back to him. Your head tilted slightly to the side, looking over your shoulder.

You were sad you couldn't stare at him. Especially since this was the last drawing he needed for his class. You watched him draw you out of the corner of your eye. You didn't want this session to end. Knowing that you were not going get to be this intimate with Steve again.

You felt as if this was the longest session yet. Steve took his time drawing you, making sure to catch every detail of your body.

When he finished, Steve came up behind you to show you the complete sketch. He stood towering behind you as you held the drawing in your hands.

You admired each stroke of his pencil. Seeing yourself in these images gave you a new perspective. Each drawing was how Steve saw you. Beautiful.

"You're so talented,"

You knew Steve was smiling behind you. He was an amazing artist, but didn't show off his work often and enjoyed getting the compliments.

"Means a lot, Y/N,"

You turned to face Steve, handing him his book.

"I have to say, I'm kinda sad I won't get to see anymore drawings of me like that. I loved everything you drew the past few weeks. It really did make me feel beautiful,"

"Like I said before, Y/N, you're always beautiful,"

"Thanks Steve, that means a lot coming from you,"

You leaned down to grab your clothes that you had left on the floor. You slipped your panties back on and sat on the edge of Steve's bed, turning your shirt back right side in.

"What do you mean it means a lot coming from me?" Steve asked.

"I just mean, you're important to me. And your opinion is important to me. I'd rather you think i'm beautiful than some random guy on the street,"

"Well why else would you think I ask you to do this for me? You're the most beautiful person I know. It'd be hard for me to ask anyone else, knowing there was someone more beautiful that I could draw,"

You smiled. You could feel your cheeks heating up.

"I thought you picked me because I was the only one who wouldn't hurt you for even asking," you joked

'Well, that too," Steve smiled back at you.

You were silent for a moment. You slipped your shirt over your head. And moved to put your jeans back on.

Steve moved to stand in front of you, and grabbed your hand. Letting you gently drop your pants.

"I did mean it though, Y/N. When I said you're the most beautiful person I've ever known,"

You looked up at Steve. He had a soft look on his face. You could see the yearning on his face. You stood up, not looking away from Steve.

The look he had on his face in this moment, was how you always looked at him. You yearded for him since you met him. Your heart ached every day you weren't with him.

You stood on your tip toes and placed one of your hands on Steve's cheek and pulled his face closer to yours. You closed the gap between the two of you, and gently pressed your lips against his. Steve hesitated for a second before placing his hands on your hips and pulling you closer to him.

He held you so tight, as if he never wanted to let you go. You pressed your lips tighter against one another. You were so happy in this moment you wanted to cry. You imagined every day Steve wanting you, and loving you. You imagined your first kiss so many times, and this was perfect.

Steve held you against him, and pulled his lips off of yours. He rested his forehead against yours. Both of you were smiling.

"I can't even tell you how long i've wanted to do that," you said softly,

"I'm so happy you did," he smiled.

You placed your feet flat on the ground again, just looking up at Steve.

"I was dying the past few weeks. I can't tell you how hard it was with you in front of me, naked, and I couldn't even touch you. I really didn't know you felt this way about me too,"

"You can touch me now," you said, moving Steve's hands from your waist to your ass.

Steve laughed.

He leaned back down to kiss you softly, his hands only trailing away from your ass to lift up your shirt. He pulled away from the kiss to pull your shirt over your head, tossing it aside.

Two could play at this game, you thought. You began lifting Steve's shirt, letting him pull it the rest of the way off. Your hands trailed down to his belt, undoing it from his pants. Steve just watched you as you unzipped his jeans, and pulled both his pants and underwear down his thighs. Steve kicked them off. He stood in front of you completely naked.

"Sit down," you said.

Steve obeyed, and sat down on his bed. You slipped off your panties. You moved to straddle Steve, your wet pussy rubbing against Steve's hard cock. He wrapped his arms around you, as to not let you fall. You wrapped your arms around his neck, and pressed your lips against his.

You moved your lips against each other's. Deepening the kiss. His tongue entering your mouth. You continued to rock your wet pussy against his dick, teasing him.

You pulled away from the kiss. You looked at Steve as you grabbed his hard cock in your hand. You slowly raised your body, pressing his cock at your entrance. You slowly sat down, his hard dick entering you. He felt huge, despite how wet you were, you were still tight. You weren't sure if you would be able to take him all in.

Suddenly, you felt yourself open up. Both you and Steve moaned as you took the rest of him in. You both sat still for a moment, adjusting to the feeling of Steve being inside of you.

Steve pulled your tighter against him. Your chests were pressed together. He closed the gap between your lips once more, moaning into your mouth as you began rocking back and forth on his cock. The feeling of Steve filling you up, already made you want to orgasm.

His hands were pressed tight against your back, holding you close to him. His mouth moved against yours. Your tongues brushing against each other. You continued to rock back and forth on his dick. Nearly every movement caused him to moan into your kiss.

You kept one arm wrapped around his neck for support, but moved the other down to your clit. As soon as you touched yourself, a shock went through you. You rubbed small circles around your clit, as Steve thrust into you, while you continued to rock on his cock.

You moaned into your kisses. You bit Steve's lip as he moaned your name.

Your breathings became heavy, as you both neared orgasm. You felt like you were sitting on Steve's lap, rocking on his dick forever. The moment felt like it would never end.

You felt like you had never been so intimate with someone during sex before. Never been so vulnerable.

You could feel your orgasm building as Steve began making harder thrusts inside of you, and you started making faster circles around your clit. Your mouth never left Steve's, continuing to kiss as you came.

You moaned loud into his mouth as you felt your wall come crashing down, contracting around Steve's dick. Second later, you could feel Steve's dick twitching inside of you.

When you both same down from your orgasms, you silently rested your foreheads against one anothers. All you could hear was your heavy breathing and your hearts beating quickly.

Steve let himself fall backward, bringing you with him. The both of you laughed as you slipped off of dick and fell beside him.

You rested your head on his chest, and listened to his heartbeat. Steve ran his hand along your back and kissed your forehead.

"You're beautiful," he murmured.

[ruensroad]

and then inspiration walked in

For @this-solaris-life as encouragement for her upcoming works! She asked for art model Jiang Cheng becoming the muse to artist Lan Xichen. Hope this inspires you to keep on working hard! :D ---

He’d taken the class on a whim, given he was a landscape artist and learning figure drawing was very much not landscaping. But it was something new, something to experience, and Lan Huan had found himself greatly enjoying it.

They drew from life, for one, which he could appreciate. He was often drawing and painting in his gardens, so being able to reference a physical object made learning his new skill a little more easier, given it was rooted in a familiar foundation.

What he hadn’t quite expected, though he should have been, was when they finally got into the actual people drawing. Drawing bowls of fruit the first month was only to practice techniques and gain some confidence, after all, but this was, in the end, a figure drawing class, and that meant models.

Usually nude, very interesting to look at models.

Lan Huan wasn’t such a prude that he couldn’t handle the nudity portion. All parts were important to the whole and that too was a good lesson to have. He never spent a good amount of time in those areas, to be fair, but he wasn’t so shy he couldn’t do what he was asked. He was here to draw, so he drew what he had to, and very much enjoyed the entire experience.

That was, at least, until model number three.

They’d drawn a plump woman just before and one of the student athletes the time before that, also a woman. Because of this, Lan Huan was wholly caught off guard when what had to be the most beautiful man he’d ever seen walk into the room with a bored frown on his face and in a purple pea-coat. The only consolation to all his drooling as the man walked to the professor to talk in a low voice was that he was not the only one staring at him so shamelessly.

And Lan Huan knew he shouldn’t stare as the man undressed, knew it was a job and he’d only make the man uncomfortable with his open leering, but something in him could not look away, was utterly caught in those dark eyes, the sharp jaw and cheekbones, the way his long lashes fluttered. When he sat on the modeling stool, he sat straight and proper, but still relaxed, and his gaze focused on a point on the floor, heavy lidded and inky black.

When the professor clapped her hands, nearly all of them jolted back to reality. “Everyone, places. Jiang Cheng, you just let me know when you need a break.”

“Of course, Professor Luo,” the angel - Jiang Cheng, clear river, how poetic! - told her, and shifted just a little on the seat. Then he was a perfect statue, warm and marble and dotted with surprising moles across his chest and shoulders.

Lan Huan picked up his pencil, drinking in every detail, and began. He’d never drawn so quickly before, gesturing in the pose, before going back to fix in the details. Over the hour long session, he managed a decent sketch, but the most detailed portion was Jiang Cheng’s face, which Lan Huan carefully rendered.

He wasn’t meant to be so detailed, but he couldn’t help it. Like someone possessed, he dotted in the moles, the sharp lines of Jiang Cheng’ body. He was lean and toned, like an athlete, but sat still like a lawyer. Lan Huan’s mind buzzed with questions, and wants, and for the first time he stuttered when his pencil moved down.

Thankfully, Professor Luo called an end to the session and Jiang Cheng’s statue moved back into life, rolling his shoulders and stretching his neck as he slid off the stool and grabbed his clothes.

Logically, Lan Huan knew this wasn’t the last time Jiang Cheng would be in. The models were hired for at least a full week’s worth of classes, which meant he’d see Jiang Cheng in two days.

But his heart said something else, and in a daze of fear and something he had no name for, he approached Jiang Cheng once the man had wrestled his pants back on. He was still shirtless, which was distracting to the extreme, and his eyes were even more dangerously deep up close. Lan Huan felt his words die the moment a perfectly arched brow cocked up at him in question.

“Yes?” Jiang Cheng asked, frowning in a way that should not work on his beautiful face, but only made him more lovely. “Can I help you?”

“Do you do private modeling?” Lan Huan remembered how to use words and they all fell out in a rush before he could forget how to speak again.

“I…” Jiang Cheng looked startled by his question, which was all shades of wrong. How could no one have asked for a private moment of his time before? “I don’t, but I mean… sure?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, looking confused and hesitant, but thinking Lan Huan’s offer through. “Why?”

“Mid term project,” Lan Huan said, wanting to cry that he actually had that excuse, though it’d only come to him now. Goodness, but when had he gotten so reckless? “We have to draw a scene that shows what we’ve learned so far and I need more practice with drawing people.”

At a very adorably furrowed brow, he elaborated with a soft laugh, “I’m actually a background illustrator. This is the most I’ve drawn people in my whole life.”

Amazingly, Jiang Cheng huffed a laugh too, and if he was beautiful with a frown, he was devastating with a smile. He gave a shrug that made those moles he had dance. “Alright, sure. Why the hell not?”

He dug into his jacket, still draped over a chair, and fished out a marker. He gestured for Lan Huan’s hand and wrote his number on his wrist, smirking a little all the while.

“Text me the details and I’ll see what i can do,” was his promise. Lan Huan barely remembered to breathe as he nodded.

“Of course, thank you.”

His hand again, this time for a shake. “Jiang Cheng.”

“Lan Huan.” He found a smile as he introduced himself, a bit too happy and wide, and shook the model’s hand. Oh, but he was in so much trouble. “And I very much look forward to working with you.”

[faelune-home]

Improvise

(A/N: Cos somehow a girl managed to fire out 3700+ words over two weeks. Hope y’all like it.

Focuses on my main miqo WoL Fufu. A little night of piano playing shared w/ Alphinaud. Set during Early Heavensward

Also available on Ao3 here

@ffxiv-writers)

The door to Fortemps Manor creaked to a close, yet a sharp gust of wind managed to sneak through anyway, catching Alphinaud and making him shiver. Even after having spent some few weeks in Ishgard, he still wasn’t quite used to the chill snap that gripped the city. Perhaps now was the time to finally think about investing in a winter jacket...or maybe a new attire altogether.

He made his way through the halls, intent on returning to the room gifted to him by Count Fortemps so that he could continue his work before turning in for the night. There was already so much to be done, with the paperwork he had offered to do for the count in return for his hospitality, as well as looking into the disappearances of the Scions, and then there was the news of a primal apparently floating around Abalathia’s Spine…

Just as he had reached his door however, he stopped, his attention caught by what sounded like music further down the hall. A light tinkling of piano keys he deduced. Curiosity took hold, as Alphinaud was certain he hadn’t heard a piano within the manor before that night. Yet in his moment of distraction, his papers almost slipped from his hands, reminding him of his evening work. Caught between leaving the curious sound for the night or trying to source it, it wasn’t until one of the maids of the house passed by carrying linens, humming away with a smile on her face that he finally relented and set off deeper into the manor.

Down the corridor, and round a corner, passing yet another humming maid, the music grew louder, until he finally came to a partly opened door. Barely wide enough to allow any light out, yet the music flowed out into the hallway. Yet while he had found the source, one finally question itched, just one more answer, who...

Peeking through the crack in the door, he saw Fufu, the Warrior of Light sitting at the piano, tapping away at the keys. Her tail swished happily behind her, and her pigtails swung side to side as she swayed along to the melody of her own making. He almost wanted to assume he could hear her humming along as well. An occasional fumble of fingers would send an off key note, yet her deft hands could follow up and keep on track, and it was like it hadn’t even happened. The atmosphere within the room seemed so jovial for only having one person inside. But then she did seem to have the talent to bring cheer with her wherever she went. Was it a Bardic skill or something naturally inherent to the miqo’te?

Alphinaud had often dismissed her musical moments in times past, considering it time that could’ve been better spent on other tasks, yet now there he stood, drawn in by her whimsical little tune. In fact, before he could argue with himself to simply leave and go back to his room, having solved the mystery that had briefly snatched him, he stepped forth and pushed the door open fully, the groan of the hinges catching the occupant’s attention and bringing her merry tune to a halt. 

Fufu spun round on the piano stool, giving her companion a broad smile and saying, “Oh, welcome back! I didn’t realise you’d gotten in.” He returned her greeting with a light nod of his own and said, “It’s no worry, I can see you were quite busy.” 

Her ears flicked and she hummed, “I might’ve been a bit too into that one, I’m not even certain what time it is now.” As she turned to try and catch the chronometer in the room, Alphinaud stepped forward and asked, “Actually, could you play it again? If it’s alright.” This earned him another broad grin and an enthusiastic nod.

“Of course! I’ll try my best.” She turned back to the piano, however rather than start playing again, she shuffled over on the seat and patted the empty space, looking expectantly at the elezen. Though somewhat surprised at the gesture - after all, there was a perfectly good couch within the room he would’ve gladly taken instead - he stepped forward and joined the miqo’te on the seat, placing his papers on the side table.

As the warrior’s fingers continued to dance along the keys, picking up the melody once more, he couldn’t help but watch, mesmerised at how they moved now that he had a closer view. Hands long calloused from her work with the bow now tapped away and created a bubbly little tune, so fitting for her character.

“How long have you known how to play?” he asked, the question coming to mind as he recalled seeing her more often with a harp for her minstreling, as well as the single time he had seen her strumming away at a small lute.

“Only a few weeks, really. Started a few days after we first got here,” she answered, never stopping her merry tune. Alphinaud blinked, surprised.

“Truly?” She nodded, then leaned closer to him like she was sharing a secret and added, “If you were to ask how long I’ve been playing well, the maids stopped giving me dirty looks last week I think.” Then she laughed, and the song seemed to jump up in rhythm with her. He wasn’t quite deterred however, as another question nagged at him.

“But...how? Did you learn, I mean.” At this, Fufu took one hand off the piano, the other continuing to play, picked up a book from the table next to her side of the piano and handed it to the younger boy, saying, “I taught myself. I found this book in the library while I was looking for something else. Apparently Lord Edmont tried to have Artoirel learn when he was a boy, but it didn’t really work.”

Alphinaud flipped through the pages, noting how easily presented most of the information was - ‘most’, as he could only assume the book was meant as a companion piece for an actual instructor. Yet all the same, it seemed understandable, and if one had the drive enough to learn…

“I’ll confess, I’m impressed,” he admitted. This earned him one of her wide grins, her sharpened teeth catching the light. Curiosity mostly sated now, he turned his attention to the music sheet on the stand, only to realise something else.

“Have you been improvising this whole time?” Indeed, while the tune was similar to the one that had initially drawn him to the room, there was a noted difference in how it was played; a higher key perhaps, and what seemed initially like the repeated chorus was instead rather different. Fufu nodded vigorously, saying, “Yup! The sheets were good to learn, but this is more fun.” Now completely at a loss for words at his companion’s skill, the boy could only sit, listening with a much keener ear as the miqo’te tapped out her free flowing music.

Even when she eventually drew one song to a close - with an over exaggerated flourish that Alphinaud couldn’t help but smile at - she started another afterward, this time a slower piece, more fitting over a wind down for the night. The lower notes of the tune seemed to thrum in the air, and he could feel the low buzz in his chest. Logically he could say it was just the close proximity to the piano, but at this point he wouldn’t quite be surprised if it were Fufu’s doing…

“Did you ever learn an instrument?” He was snapped from his unexpected reverie, seeing the woman staring at him intently after her question, the music itself even slower now as her attention had shifted.

“I mean,” she continued, turning back and picking up her pace again, “to my knowledge, it just seems like something fancy families try to do with their kids, like Lord Edmont and Artoirel.” At the reference, her ear flicked toward the book resting on Alphinaud’s lap, however his attention had been caught elsewhere.

“Fancy?” he echoed, looking mildly offended at the remark. The music finally came to a complete stop as she turned to face him, an amused smirk on her face. She repeated, “Yes, fancy. You got to receive a high class education at a renowned school—“

“The Studium is open to all, even some few outside of Sharlayan,” he countered.

“Well, you’d walk around using your family name in so many places like it’d just open all the doors, and actually I think it did a lot of the time.”

He flinched, recalling how that arrogance had saw them flee to Ishgard in the first place for safety, yet he argued back anyway, “That was far more to do with the impact my grandfather had in Eorzea as opposed to—“

“Your family has manservants,” she interrupted, with a degree of finality in her voice that made him stop, and despite a light stammer as he tried to respond, he ultimately hung his head and said, “Fine. I suppose that isn’t a common thing for most families.”

“Nope, only fancy ones,” she replied, still wearing that amused smile. Then she leaned in close, as though waiting. Recalling her initial question, a small smile crossed his lips as a memory came to him.

“I’ve never learned, nor has my sister, but mother did suggest it once. She always said it would allow us to appreciate the arts or something similar.” He then chuckled, “Alisaie almost threw a fit at the idea, saying that she didn’t want to end up being dolled up and forced to perform for others entertainment, much to mother’s disappointment. I told her I wasn’t much interested either, and she didn’t bring it up again.” 

The miqo’te hummed. “I see.” Then leaned back into the boy and asked, “Do you want to learn how to play?”

He blinked, curious. “Are you offering to teach?” Fufu shrugged, looking sheepish as she said, “I don’t know if I’d be that great of a teacher, but I could try. And if I’m not, then I could maybe see if Jehantel wouldn’t mind helping.” 

Although tempted, Alphinaud shook his head, saying, “I appreciate the offer, however I think I’ll decline. At least for now. We both have far too much happening right now to dedicate any real attention to any lessons.” He had his own duties after all, and as well as helping the Fortemps in her own way, he knew that Fufu had also picked up some extra errands amongst the local Ishgardians. In hindsight, her having self-taught herself the piano on top of her many duties was all the more astounding.

“That’s fair,” she nodded, fortunately not looking too upset at the rejection, “But the offer’s always available for the future, if you change your mind!” He nodded, smiling back at her, “Of course.” Satisfied, the woman adjusted herself on the seat and lifted her hands to the keys once more. 

She beamed, “One more song before bed then?” She didn’t wait for an answer, not that the boy would refuse, and started playing. It started a bit slowly, a muddle of low notes as though she were still deciding on what to play, before the tune seemed to collect itself. It was another slow song, and Alphinaud could definitely feel himself starting to relax with it.

“I have to admit, you do have a way with music,” he sighed, trying to resist the urge to lean against the miqo’te and disrupt her playing, even if the soothing melody seemed to be making him feel rather sleepy. “That you can teach yourself how to play something like this while also keeping up with so much else, and then the ability to improvise besides.”

Fufu shrugged, “I wouldn’t say it's that special. The improvising I mean. I just kinda play away until it sounds right then keep playing that.”

“Tis a talent nonetheless. A valued one for any field. Even in battle, should the need arise, being able to adapt freely is a useful skill.” Fufu nodded at his words, though she still looked unsure.

“Maybe… I’ll be honest, improvising is fun with music, but in a combat situation, I still prefer working from a plan. If I have to start thinking on my feet when the plan isn’t working then fine, but having an idea of what to do feels a lot more secure. I’ve gotten a lot more done with others to tell me what to do than I have just doing stuff on my own.” At this point, the music had stopped. The miqo’te simply stared ahead, over the piano and straight out the window at the drifting snows outside.

Concern for his friend at her very sudden mood change shook the drowsiness from Alphinaud’s mind. “Come now, you act as if you’re no better than a common soldier following orders.”

“I’m not saying that’s what I want,” she sighed, shrugging her shoulders. “I’m just saying there’s...comfort, I think, in having someone else step up and know what to do. It’s reassuring when I’m lost.” Then a small smile came upon her face, as her eyes shone in remembrance.

“Actually, that reminds me… I didn’t really want to share this, just because I thought it’d seem overly sentimental and silly--”

“Really? I suppose that would be out of character,” the boy interrupted, with what he hoped sounded like a tone of levity. To his relief, Fufu smirked, clearly amused as she gave him a light nudge with her arm, then said, “Please, I’m trying to be serious. And I do know when to stop before something is too much.”

She leaned back, staring at the ceiling, hands holding onto the edge of the stool, and after a long pause, she started, “It was after the attack on the Waking Sands. I was just supposed to go back and see Minfilia and find out what was happening next. Maybe it would’ve been dealing with Garuda anyway, maybe it’d be something else, another ascian trail hunt, I don’t know. And I never really will because of everything that happened.” The mood had turned sombre again.

“I didn’t know what to do. The only thing I could do was go to the church near Drybone, ‘cos that’s what Minfilia said...it was the last thing Noraxia told me. And even then, while I was there, I just did what others asked or suggested, trying to help where I could to feel useful, but I didn’t really know what to do. Y’shtola and Yda were missing and I didn’t know if I could get in touch with them, and the Garleans were looking for Echo users so I didn’t want to go back to Gridania in case they attacked there. And when it looked like they were near the church anyway targeting Cid, I thought I’d have to run off just in case to keep people safe, but then…”

She stopped, straightening up in the seat, and after another pause that almost had Alphinaud consider jumping in himself, she said, “Well I guess the most honest thing I can say is that you showing up was a big help to me.”

He blinked, rather taken aback at her statement. “Me?”

She nodded. “Yup. Like I said, I already had no clue what to do at that point, so when you showed up saying we were going to find Cid’s airship and deal with Garuda - well, of course we got caught up in all the Ishgardian bureaucracy which made it take longer, but the point is, it was more of a plan than I had. And after Operation Archon, you were the one that suggested the move to Revenant’s Toll for the Scions so we could work on more neutral ground-”

“I fear you’re giving me far too much praise here. So often I’ve worked in tandem with others, to claim sole credit would be rather arrogant.” And Twelve knows he was aware of his follies as it was.

However Fufu shook her head. “I know you didn’t do everything alone, of course not. But I’m talking about the things you did do. There’s nothing wrong with acknowledging that. Hells, we wouldn’t be here in Ishgard if you hadn’t put in the work to champion on their behalf during the dravanian attacks.”

At this, Alphinaud shot to his feet and snapped, “We’re here in Ishgard precisely because of me! Twas mine own fault that we have lost our comrades and been forced from the Stones-”

“No,” she countered forcefully, getting to her feet to stand beside him, even if she was yet taller than him, “That was not your own fault, that was the Braves-”

“And they were my responsibility, I share the blame for not realising that they were never truly under my command. I led them into the city states and proclaimed them protectors of the people. I was the fool and I don’t deserve the admiration you seem to have for me.” He stepped out from the piano stool and made for the door to the room, ready to make for somewhere else, anywhere else, when Fufu grabbed his arm and stopped him with a pleading, “Wait, please.”

When he didn’t move any further or try to shake her grip, she gently pulled him toward the couch in the room, sitting them both down. He initially looked away, the guilt dredged up from his outburst preying upon his mind and making him think back and replay that night’s events again, until he felt the woman take his hand. Looking back, he was surprised to see her eyes shining with their own guilt, her ears flat against her head.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “I didn’t mean to make it sound like I had some blind hero worship for you. I only meant that I was grateful. Like I said, when I was left at that church with nothing to do except take on other people’s favours, I was just lost. You just put me back on the path to actually doing something.” She then squeezed his hand tighter as she looked down, somehow even more downtrodden as she continued, “Thinking about it, maybe I was blind actually. I could’ve said something about the Braves since I helped to set it up, and I was there for nearly every step of the way, but I never saw anything. I just knew that every other idea had worked out fine, so perhaps this would as well.”

Finally giving him a rueful smile, she said, “Maybe I deserve the blame for the Braves as well.” 

“No,” Alphinaud said firmly, taking his hand from her and readying to argue, until Fufu grabbed his shoulders and said with her own adamant certainty, “Then stop. What’s done is done, and we can only move on. Isn’t that what we’re trying to do? Remembering our mistakes is fine, if we only use that to improve. And you’ve been good about that, just every now and then you get really down about it like you’re still the only one at fault for it.” Alphinaud nodded, feeling a touch sheepish at her impassioned words.

“You’re right. My apologies, I shouldn’t have gotten quite so pathetic there,” he sighed, giving her a grateful smile in return. Fufu smiled back, clearly relieved.

“Good. We don’t have any time for that sort of pity party after all,” she chuckled, ruffling the boy’s hair and giggling harder at his indignant, “Hey”.

“And for what it’s worth, the Braves were a good idea in theory. You did have a point when you said that we Scions would need our own personal force to help all of the city states. We just didn’t account for...well, everything else.”

He nodded. “I suppose so, but I doubt we could make a second attempt at such a thing. People would be less trusting of the idea, not to mention so long as monetarists like Teledji or Lolorito exist, they would still try to gain advantage of the group.”

“Or make it harder for them to do their jobs,” Fufu added, recalling the pompous statue of Lolorito that stood in Vesper Bay; his answer to the Scions refusing his advances.

“Well, we’ll just have to work twice as hard to make up for,” she stated, sitting up straight and punching her fist into the air. The miqo’te then turned to face the boy again, giving him a broad grin as she said, “And I want you there with me.”

“You’re quite certain?”

She nodded. “You’re still better at making plans and strategizing than I am. Just because you worked more with others before, or a few of those ideas didn’t work out like you hoped doesn’t change that. So I want you to keep doing what you do best. And in return, I’ll try and do my part to make sure they’ll work out, or even stepping up to tell you if it won’t work. I won’t leave you to take the worst of it.” She held her hand out, and after only a moment’s thought, Alphinaud nodded and took it, the two shaking firmly.

“I would like that a lot,” he said. Just then, a loud chime broke out in the room, making them both jump. The chronometer on the wall read 10 o’clock.

“Gods, has it gotten so late?” He sighed, mumbling, “I won’t be able to do much of that paperwork now.” He stood and collected the papers from beside the piano, bowing politely to his companion and saying, “Thank you for tonight. The music and the discussion. I feel like we stand on more even ground now.”

“We didn’t before?” Fufu asked, albeit with a smile.

“Maybe we did...but this was nice to confirm all the same. Now if you’ll excuse me, I should head to bed.” He turned for the door, however the miqo’te’s call of “Wait!” stopped him. Turning back, he watched her stumbled quickly back to the piano and, to his amusement, pat the stool seat beside her.

“I didn’t get to finish playing properly before. So,” she turned, eyes glowing, “one more song before bed?”

He joined her once more. “Feel free, my friend.”

[edriclui-blog]

Krista by Pablo Baen Santos

Lui, Edric Brian C.                                                                  July 16,2020                                                                                                

Art Ap 10K                                       Krista by Pablo Baen Santos

       Pablo Baen Santos, a Filipino painter, was born on 1943 and raised in the country as well. He studied in the University of the Philippines, College of Fine Arts and was  an illustrator, layout artist, and photographer for the Manila Times, one of the leading newspaper in the Philippines. He covered mass actions and protest in the 1970s. Furthermore, he is a vital figure in the social realist movement as he was one of the founding members of the Kaisahan Group which is a social realist art group formed in the year 1976.  For his works in art relating to social realism, he was nominated for The Joseph Balestier Award for the Freedom of Art on 2015 which is a prestigious award given to artists from South East Asia to honor their work committing to ideas of freedom of art, expression, and liberty(US Embassy Manila,2015).

          Being able to witness the struggle of ethnic minorities, laborers, and citizens alike, he realized the social obligation of artists like him to express the state of society through the use of art, particularly painting, as a form of expression especially in the 1970s and 1980s wherein struggle among citizens is evident as a result of the Marcos regime. The dark years of the dictatorship then became a rich mine for artists to illustrate social realism and powerful protests, and Santos was no exception. His works give emphasis on the hardships of rural and urban workers alike as well as his concerns regarding the social conditions running in the country. As one of the pioneer social realist artists in the country, Santos aims to advocate change and address a wide range of issues that plague the urban workers back then through his artistry. Thereby, his works during the 1970s and 1980s often feature the struggle of the impoverished working class. The artist’s socio-political orientation through the use of symbolism and common folks as subjects.Furthermore, he questions the social order in the country by pointing out the tensions present in the Philippine society between capitalist and workers as well as farmers and land-owners. All of what he stands for are commonly seen in his paintings in which the Philippine flag and mother country are both incorporated in the context of Philippine society , and one of his most famous paintings, Krista, greatly represents which issues faced the country during those periods(Google Arts and Culture, n.d.).

         Pablo Baen Santos’s Krista was created in 1984 using an oil-on-canvas painting ,and is a gift of the artist to the Ateneo Art Gallery. It has a 90cm x 121cm dimension. The painting shows a woman whose mouth is wrapped with barbwire while her fists are clenched. Behind the women is the Philippine flag and above her are two people. As to her sides, protesters and dead people can be seen. The various elements used in this painting are color, lines, shape, form, and texture. The colors used in the painting were simple. It was filled with colors that are mainly brown with shades of primary colors such as red, blue, and yellow for the flag and the protesters. Shades of white were also utilized in the painting. The color choice was properly utilized as it depicts a clear and proper image of the painting. It was not too bright but not too dull as well even with shades of black on it. As for the lines, most of them were curvy with some having edges and others of irregular shapes mostly seen among the humans and the flag. The combination of the irregular lines along with the blending of the color black in the painting depicts a sense of agony, feeling, and movement. However, the painting as a whole appears firm and very tense ,and the texture conveys agony and pain. It does a good job of conveying how the humans seen in the painting are all in pain and not in an easy state from the lines seen on their faces, to the details on their eyes, to the coloring on their faces,  the angle they can be seen, and the relative stiffness of their body - all contributing to the overall depiction of hardship, abuse, and the lack of rights(Martial Law Museum,2017).

          The title of the work drew inspiration from Christ who is often referred to as “Kristo” in the Philippines. Furthermore, the barbwires in the mouth may be attributed to the “crown of thornes ” on Christ’s forehead. Finally, the title “Krista” may serve as added reference for the subject to be labeled “Female Christ”. Looking into Santos background and what he stands for, one possible reason why he chose a female subject is because he wants to represent the minorities and those who are weak and abused - both of which oppressive societies view women to be even though I personally think that women are very strong and brilliant. Moreover, Christ was said to be tortured on the Bible for crimes He was innocent for. The attribution of the subject to Christ greatly depicts how protesters in this mother country may be tortured even if they might be innocent(Martial Law Museum,2017).

          The painting touches up on the concepts of nationalism, socio-political issues, and religion- all of which are core in the society of the country. As for the latter, it was already discussed in the paragraph above with the title as well as the barbwire that represents the crown of thornes to draw representation of the core of the Catholic tradition being Christ.In terms of depicting nationalism and the socio-political issues present in the country, Santos used symbolisms such as the mother country, the Philippine flag, the barbwire wrapped around the mouth, and the clenched fist. Along with the Philippine flag, the subject represents a state of unrest in which she is abused, tortured, and sick of the harsh realities of the world they live in. She best represents the situation of the Philippines. Also, the flag further strengthens the notion of these issues being present in the Philippines ,and the Filipinos below show rebellion and oppression. Next, the barbwire wrapped around the mouth represents how the country’s freedom of speech was not practiced and that their liberties were halted. Practicing it might further result in punishment and agony. This limits the citizens right to speech as if they can’t “open their mouth” and trying to do so might get them in further pain as what would happen when one opens her mouth while it is wrapped in barbwire. Finally, the clenched fist represents defiance and struggle as what has been an instinctive symbol for those during mass protest and rallies.The subject further holding back her fists and not being able to raise it also show how she wants to defy oppression , but how hard it would be to do so either through her being tired and oppressed or because doing so would incur more punishment. Minor details that I noticed which might also stand for something are the positions of the humans beside the female subject as well as the humans above her. The humans who are closer to the subject, those that are more visible seem to be dead or even more oppressed. As for those at the back, they are also in defiance with clenched fists. This may show that those who are at the forefront of protesting may be persecuted and those who then step-up to be at the forefront of the battle against oppression may be next. Also, I noticed a woman holding her baby. This may illustrate how the people are worried for the future of their progeny shall they might encounter similar oppression or how their child may fare shall she be persecuted. Finally, the human at the top seems to be holding a hammer which may illustrate blue-collar workers as Santos’s background suggest due to his realization on the relationships between capitalist and workers(Martial Law Museum,2017).

           Looking at the artwork as a whole, I was struck in the heart on how accurate and real its message is. I was naive and did not know much about the hardships that our mother country fared against , and reflecting upon paintings like this further made me appreciate the heroes who faced the hardships of going up against dictators - protesting so that the future generation like me would not undergo the same things they went through. Sadly, corruption is still evident in the country, poverty is rampant, and journalist still fear for their lives. This painting made me realize that one important aspect of art that distinguish it as  a “treasure” and “impactful” is that it reflects on the situation present during the time of when the art was made as well as how they can impact human insight and emotion. I only cared about the aesthetic of the art, the vivid colors, and how its value appreciates. However, this painting and similar ones that depict society distinguish it from other forms of artwork that I liked as it moved not just my eyes, but rather my mind, heart, and soul ; and the colors,  texture,  vibe, and detail all contribute to this painting being very informative in which any minor change would not make it as effective and touching as it is.

References:

Ateneo Art Gallery.(n.d.) Krista. Retrieved from: 

      https://ateneoartgallery.com/collections

       /krista-female-christ

Google Arts and Culture.(n.d.) Manifesto. Retrieved from:https://artsandculture.

         google.com/asset/manifesto/TAF-7AVkhSYCTA

Martial Law Museum.(2017,June 7). Grade 11: Understanding Society: Visual      

         Literacy and Social Realism. Retrieved from: https://martiallaw

           museum.ph/magturo/gr-11-understanding-society

           /#About-the-Artist--the-Artwork

US Embassy Manila.(2015, March 13). Filipino Nominated in Singapore Arts  

          Award.Retrieved from:https://ph.usembassy.gov

          /filipino-nominated-in-singapore-arts-award/

                                               Artwork’s details

Title: Krista

Artist:Pablo Baen Santos

Medium: Oil on canvas

Year:1984

Provenance:Gift of Artist

[watchherspace]

WatchMySpace

My work is about women and understanding the gradual change in the portrayal of them in art throughout history – from celebrations of fertility and idolised goddesses to objects of desire. The female nude is a prominent and constant feature of (in?) art history and has been a popular device for representing and underpinning the politics and beliefs of each moment and its era in time.

As a woman artist I have been drawn to the relationship between the female and art – both the female as artist and as the subject. I have found the evolution of change in artists’ approaches intriguing.

On discovering the Venus of Willendorf, one of the earliest representations of woman, I was struck by how different she was from what I had seen before. Her bulging tummy and breasts were, and still are, uncommon in the art world. We are used to seeing idealised beauty, that of a slender, less shapely (lumpy) figure. To see the Venus of Willendorf shown celebrating her fertility and womanhood was almost unheard of. I presumed this must be down to my own conditioning and it made me want to investigate this further. Continued research showed me that women were largely admired for their reproductive gift, heavily sought after in the early stages of man’s cultural (?) development and survival. Producing healthy offspring was very important and as larger women were thought to be more fertile they were therefore also more desirable, so images of voluptuous and therefore fecund females were commonly depicted in art in early times.

As mankind developed, an age of philosophy, myth and religion emerged, and with it a more idolised vision of femininity developed. Normal women weren’t shown in art, only goddesses. Does that mean the position of normal women in society was not valued? Can we assume that the story of Adam and Eve’s fall from grace, and Eve’s part in it, triggered a larger movement where men were considered higher and more virtuous beings, and women were sinners or lesser beings who should aspire to be more like goddesses? (any answer?)

The Greek Aphrodite, later identified as Venus by the Romans, was the mythological goddess of love. No longer a larger figure, she represented a new idealised vision of beauty for women to look up to and aspire to. In the first sculptures she was fully clothed, however Praxiteles made a bold move in crafting his Aphrodite of Knidos in the nude. It was initially shocking and offensive to onlookers but soon gathered recognition, especially from the male audience. Many replicas were made in its image as its popularity grew, becoming the epitome of femininity at the time. Even her contrapposto positioning, covering her pubis area with one hand and her other grabbing at a draped bathing cloth, insinuated that she had been using it to cover herself but had let go, unaware of onlookers. Her nudity and helplessness was so common it became the normalised perception of women and was used by many artists to promote (?) their paintings.

As time went on and art developed, women became viewed as objects of desire and play-things for those that could afford to pay. Still seen as second class citizens to men, women struggled with lack of money and power and were commoditised in society as prostitutes, and in art as early pornography. La Grande Odalisque, Ingres, was a fanciful world for men to indulge in both money and prostitution, showing a (disproportionate) nude woman lying on a bed of luxury and treasures with a passive expression on her face. Often portrayed as submissive and available, the familiar alluring positioning and expression was what drew men to them, and made women that saw them believe this was required of them.

Towards modern day art the female nude was even more graphic and sexualised with the use of photography, film and actual pornography. This reflects societal values where women were very much seen as sex objects, or the sex toy left at home to domestic duty and child rearing.

However, towards the end of the last century the development of the women’s liberation movement firstly began to make women question their portrayal in art.This spread more broadly to a general consensus among society that art and artists had been failing women, which in turn led to a more equal and honest attitude and approach to the depiction of women. It has also led to the empowerment of women artists and a taking back of agency and control of their own image. A graffiti artist named Jill Posener called for change in the commercial representation of women by hitting back at sexist advertisements that used women as a selling point, with gibes and ridicule. She is known for saying

In my work I would like to explore the idea of a woman with complete ownership and control of how she is represented and viewed, with a candid reality and physical ease. I would reference well-known past female nudes and create new and updated interpretations, refurbishing outdated ideas for the true modern woman. I would also like to challenge the idea of the ‘male gaze’ with the Female Gaze, where the woman’s new function and role would be to portray the power of womanhood – to be appreciated by women, with a new body confidence used to her own advantage. Once before she had little or no control over her self-direction, whereas now she takes her sexuality as a form of power and dominance as a motivation to others.

When reinterpreting the female nudes, I would add new expression and intrigue with the use of varied and unexpected materials. Working with paint, weaving, sculpture, film. I would explore our expectations of the original piece and how connected these mediums are to the subject matter. Would a painting become a weaving, would a sculpture become a film, and would these reinterpretations bring new meaning and relevance to the work?

[hysteriamodes]

Coloring in grey scale

So, hey, this is somewhat of a tutorial for those curious about some of my coloring and blending. I made this especially for anyone younger than me and is exploring digital art, but this is also for others who are curious about what I do. I love reading other artist’s comments and looking at their WIPs, so why not.

Another reminder: if you’re looking for my artwork, please follow @rainbow-illness and not this blog. All of my finished stuff goes there; usually, my works in progress (WIPs) or Angry Doodle Corner go here. Sometimes I use this blog to repost my art, but that is my official art blog, no this one. Not unless you like nonsensical posting and metal, then have at it. If you have any questions, don’t be afraid to hit me up, I love talking about art.

So I can’t always sit down and talk about my processes and how I go about doing them, but I was able to sit down and take some screencaps while I was working on my iPad Pro. Using the iPad is actually my first choice to draw on because of the convenience of carrying it around like a sketchbook, whereas my laptop isn’t always easy to carry around--it’s a big laptop. While I use my iPad, I also like to go back and correct things, recolor, re-proportion, or spend more time privately working on a drawing. I have my iPad with me, all the time, so I’m out in places usually like Starbucks doing this. I also struggle with pretty bad PTSD and agoraphobia, so having my iPad out with my headphones on gives me an excuse to put my mind elsewhere to calm down.  My family just usually looks at me and goes “oh, she’s working on her art again”; I did this as a kid, too, only with sketchbooks.

I do not have a Cintiq either, though I would absolutely love one. This laptop is capable of using a stylus, but I think I need a better one to do it with. All I’m using is a cheap Wacom Bamboo tablet that I’ve had for five years, that’s it. Everything I’ve done on this blog has been on a small surface. So if you’re just dabbling into art, don’t beat yourself up for having the small stuff, I’ve worked with small stuff and still do. The only thing I have that’s not small is, well, the space and processor on my laptop are much faster than any other laptop I’ve owned, bought especially for graphic design classes and my artwork. 

So, that being said lemme just forewarn some of you guys. My artwork is all done in two to three layers! Yes, you read that right! Why? When I was 16, I didn’t have a Wacom tablet to mess with, so I had to use a mouse and learned from there. When I turned 18, I got my first Wacom tablet while working my first official job and the family computer didn’t have a good processor. So when I got my first official laptop, it was basic and not made to run anything beyond the web browser and such, it could barely handle Photoshop. It did, however, run Paint Tool SAI with no issue (which is why I still prefer it over anything I use), it just couldn’t handle more than five layers. After losing my drawings constantly and not being able to do anything in the prized software I’ve been eyeing since my Sophmore year of high school, I found a workaround with it. 

And that’s what I’m going to write about here. With that in mind, no, you do not have to limit your layers! I’ve taken traditional art classes so my first instinct is to literally paint over my stuff like I would on a canvas. If you don’t want to do that, you don’t have to! Yes, I am nuts. 

That being said, let's do this.

If you haven’t taken traditional art classes, that’s cool! I’m going to be using some art terms you haven’t heard of, but you definitely will when you take your first ever drawing class. These terms are foreground, value, negative space, contour, and weighted line (I’ve seen it called line weight too). For the more experienced art students who are likely groaning over that stupid contour practice from that book “Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain”, I’m sorry, guys. Newbies, you are going to know this. 

And you are going to hate it. While I still hate it and, yeah, my eyes are rolling into my skull right now just even talking about it, there are some useful practices in here that I... actually use. Who would have thought? At least we’re not talking about still lives.

Anyway, here’s what I’M going to say that some art teachers will not tell you but I want anyone to read this to know:

- Do not obsess over your drawing to look exactly like your reference. Just don’t. Forget this completely, worry about it later or don’t even worry about it at all. This is your style, your interpretation.

- Digital art is hard. Art is hard! Practice makes perfect and you learn over time just by studying (looking at) other pieces of art. It took me like well over 10 years to find my own little niche and I’m still playing around with coloring styles. I have a lot.

- If you’re just starting to draw with a tablet of any kind, play around with it. My first official program was a cheaper version of Paint Shop Pro and when I first got it when I was 14, I sat around and experimented on layers to see what it would look like. Explore!

- When you start drawing figures or faces, try not to think of it as, well,  face or a figure. Reduce it to basic shapes, like squares, triangles, and circles.

Greyscale can establish light source, value, scale, and negative space.

I don’t always use greyscale for my art, but when I do, I appreciate it because it makes my life easier. For example, Alphonse Mucha’s pieces here from his “Slav Epic”.

Chances are, you’ve seen Mucha’s art nouveau on prints, fanart, fabrics, and all of that. But Mucha did so much more and he is a huge influence on me for a reason. By the greyscale we see here, we can see foreground/subject with each illustration. Mucha is using value (that’s shadow) to emphasize this, in addition to negative space (background) to draw you in, just by using black and white. Notice how the other subjects don’t have such a powerful contrast and light source versus the other, especially the woman on the left. Mucha made his art pop by his understanding of contrast.

For this first part of this entry, I’m going to be using Papa Emeritus II from “Ghost”... who is a good example of how to draw faces, too. Huh. Regardless of what drawing program you’re using, keep your opacity low, at 50%.

Simplicity at its finest

Instead of focusing a lot on Emeritus’ face, I’m going to focus on the negative space behind him. I’m using this to define his figure. This is a good picture because of the stark contrast, though, it’s a little tricky because it is really contrasted and you can’t see where the light source really is. But that is okay!  I am going in and just using this negative space, the contour of his head and torso. Before I even think of a face, I want to softly go in and use black (or grey) to fill up that negative space. Keep it simple and work your way up.

After I lightly fill in the negative space around him, I can start lightly going in and establish his face by blocks of shadow.  And this is why Emeritus II is such a good example for this kind of work. I don’t usually start going in and drawing eyes, I rely on the shadows of the face to see where their eyes, ears, lips, and such lie. 

Here’s another example (though, it’s old):

This is in my maroon style underpaint, which is what I post most of the time. For their faces, I just used basically eye sockets to start working on their faces, like Papa Emeritus II down below. Again, this dude is a great example.

Here is where it may get a little funky.  I created a new layer and set that layer to Multiply, still keeping that opacity low. Since I have no light source and I just want to create a really dramatic lighting, I made a vignette with a simple airbrush tool.  

With that little vignette, you can create a new layer (unless you’re me, I just merge it down because of that constant fear of nonexistent software crashing) and I’m using the color pick tool to go back and forth to start using greys to really get into Emeritus’ face, especially his wrinkles. I’m painting over it constantly, switching back and forth between a paintbrush tool and color pick tool to blend. Again, keep your opacity low... unless you’re me and you’re feeling adventurous. You’ll also notice here that I have more than one photo reference. I use several for a lot of my art, so I encourage you to do the same. I had no idea what his jaw looked like, so I grabbed a second photo. Now that I have a better idea of where his hat ends on his forehead and how his nose looks, I start doing a weighted line.

Weighted line and Contour

Now is the dreaded talk. Of contour.

Welcome to Drawing I hell. This cursed image is from the book “How to Draw on the Right Side of the Brain” and if your teacher does not talk about this in your first drawing class, I am going to eat my hat... I have a hat lying around here somewhere. ANYWAY, the contour line exercise is basically you just using a neverending line for a drawing. I don’t know who drew this (and tbh, thanks a lot for every single boring assignment I’ve done in drawing classes), but this guy used contour lines for his drawing. I’m having war flashbacks over here, but I managed to find an art teacher’s page talking about different types of contour. My god, they are evolving.

Going back to our dear friend Papa Emeritus II, I used weighted line to start adding in little shadows to his face.  Weighted line goes hand in hand with contour; it is a great technique to not only add details, but add little bits of shadows.

This is a simple example; the thicker line is adding to the shadow of the apple, giving it value!

Papa Emeritus II is such a good reference... I used him as inspiration for King Melwas here.

Gwenhwyfar is also a good example of weighted line. Gwen is essentially a very, very pale character. In contrast to Melwas, who is in darker clothing, Gwen is soft, she is the focal point in this drawing. For the little pieces of her hair, the corner of her lips, eyelashes, and her fingertips, I used a weighted line to establish these things, otherwise, Gwen is so pale, she’ll easily be washed out completely.

This drawing of Alice, which I’m still messing around with, is another example of how effective a weighted line can be with depth. The lines I added into her face, eyelashes, creases, hair, and fingers add those little details since everything I’ve done before like Papa Emeritus II was so soft with a low opacity on the brush settings.

Layer masks and curves

There are two ways you can color greyscale images.

You can do this by going into Layer > Adjustment Layer > Curves (this is how it looks like in Procreate).

This gives you a neat ol’ base color! I am playing around in the blues, adding soft hues of blue in their figures and the white in this picture can either turn blue, cream, or even green. You don’t have to use Blue, you can use any of the other colors. For me, I’m always drawn to blues. Another cool thing to play around with is Color Balance, which is underneath the same function as Curves.

But if you don’t have any of these, you can add a new layer, and do Multiply.

The only drawback to this, of course, is how destaturated (the lack of color) it looks. And yes, that’s an issue you will have and I did run into this while doing this. How I combat this is using additional layer masks. Believe it or not, Alice here was once at a grey scale, looking even more desaturated than Gwen.

For Alice’s face, I went in and use:

- Soft Light because she needed more peach and roses in her skin. Omri’s original drawing gave her a light rose blush so I wanted to do the same.

- Overlay to mask out the black lines from the greyscale I had.

- Lighten which I used to make her lips pinker, her apron’s shadows lighter, and parts of her hair brown.

The same went for Gwen, who is, again, very pale. But while she’s supposed to be pale, I didn’t wash her out completely. To add more saturation, I used a combination of Soft Light over my Multiply layer and Overlay to start working at the highlights on her hair, nose, and shoulder. 

This little walkthrough isn’t as visual as I like, but with limited software like Fire Alpaca, GIMP, or Paint Tool SAI that don’t have the abilities of Photoshop in terms of color correction and playing around with colors, I really encourage you, readers, to play around with these tools. Using the color picker back and forth, especially after using layer masks, gives you an ability to mix and blend colors. The reason why I work with greyscale or a maroon under paint is that you can create brilliant colors and make a new palette; the trick is to constantly mess around with them. I never go in and flat out color anything, with the exception of things like “angry doodle corner” which is basically what I call my lazy drawings, drawings where I’m just honestly goofing off with.

So in summation...! Or me trying to summarize this.

 Experiment and explore with layer masks and adjustments. Whoever says that using these tools isn’t real art, they’re wrong. And please don’t ever be afraid of using references of any sort!  Alphonse Mucha is saved ten times over on this computer.

[kalliejupiter]

Some LEWKS from fashion illustration, or rather a fall capsule collection that I would wear myself if I were an intergalactic space provocateur (thus the inclusion of pants and a sensible heel). My partner and I debated the practicality of a drop-crotch pant I. The cockpit of a spacecraft—I and my instructor agree that the drop-crotch is totally fine, and fabulous. Besides, I’m not taking design advice from a guy who still dresses like he’s in junior high (JK, I ❤️ my partner). I tend to write long posts, and I like talking about and documenting ideation. So, I headlined each segment for easier navigation. Just some details on concepts, design process, and such. I will post more sketches, line drawings, fabric swatches, and maybe color comps later. The Assignment: Create a ten piece collection. Decide the season, demographic, include at least five different types of garments (trousers, dresses, at least one coat, etc. I also had to draw out the flats and include swatches and stuff. In the end I had to edit down from at least 20 initial sketches. Designing wearable sci-fi LEWKS comes easy to me, but self-editing does not. Take note toxic masculinity in geek culture, a girl can still be sexy in pants and a sensible heel and drawing something from the female gaze doesn’t mean a dude can’t appreciate it... I used my sensibilities as a starting point—although, in the end the collection skews a little younger than my demographic (I can get away with it as a woman of color because a WOC could be anywhere between the ages of 25 and 45 without a stranger being able to tell the difference. I’m still a little punk rock at my age, but if I had more time, I would create a companion collection that’s a little more stately and tailored for a more professional lady in my demographic (while maintaining the visual cohesion with the collection I eventually made). The instructor initially thought I was joking, because I actually submitted a market plan that said my target demographic was an intergalactic space nomad, political double-agent, listed the median income in space credits, and made several references to lasers and cyborgs. Spoiler alert, I got an ‘A’ on the final. I prefer fall to any other season, so too is my collection for fall. Fall, as a whole, has a wide range of potential garments, mostly because fall weather is so drastically varied (in spite of this, it is usually the BEST weather of any given place, IMHO). I also like fall color palettes best (as a suburban teen I spent my adolescence wearing all black, listening to Morresey, and writing really terrible poetry, like every other suburbanite teenager). Dark colors are slimming and hide a myriad of sins, accidents, and the bloodstains of your slain enemies. I wanted to include both a short and long coat/jacket, day wear, one formal piece, a jumpsuit of some kind, a mini and maxi silhouette, a work outfit, something to work as loungewear, something to work as activewear, and something that would look cool on a robot. I also wanted to strike a balance between bodycon silhouettes and easy to wear volume—which is probably why the collection ballooned into something as large as this one did—there were so many variations of single pieces that it was hard to choose which of them to include. The piece variations themselves were compelling on their own and also in comparison to its counterpart that it became more interesting to present looks as side-by-side options. Each look was multilayered, highly detailed, and designed to be physically adaptable/changeable anyway, so assigning a single croquis to a look seemed like a wasted opportunity. References and Ideation: I got the ideas for the collection from real life. One of the weird things I picked up from the military was from Basic, and it’s the idea that you are issued all of these pieces with utilitarian properties at first that encapsulates everything you’d ever need, apparel-wise (from underwear to formal wear, and for all weather and situations) and all of it can fit in a single seabag. It was fun trying to imagine what shenanigans one could experience as an intergalactic scene-girl, and what kind of clothes she might want. The concept of a sea bag (or “space bag,” in this case) jives with the idea of a capsule collection (stylish staple pieces that can be worn over many seasons with smaller, less expensive pieces that can be altered or replaced by trendier items as the seasons progress). All the pieces can be mix-and-matched and are adaptable in many ways—there is something gender neutral about a lot of it (I wish I designed the bodysuits with more variation in the briefs: make some with compression shorts, leggings, and such—I didn’t really consider these separate LEWKS, per se, but layering pieces, because some part of my underpants are always showing under my garments, and if you are going to have exposed bra straps, make it look like you did it on purpose). Also, the tailored structure and details of military clothing are really are really cool design elements to explore. I also used Middle Eastern references to balance out the designs—mostly because I thought it would be thematically appropriate/ironic to combine the two style sensibilities (non-Western cultures have so many more interesting silhouettes in any case—it might be appropriation, but in the neutral sense of the term). The concept of armor and utility informs every piece. Those concepts also the reason I referenced (or resurrected) less common clothing items and styles. For example, the quilted leather snood, a pleated leather bolero, spats over the boots, and a molded, hooded, cuirass (leather is a good material, it adapts to the wearer like a second skin and because of that, the material plays into the theme of personalizing a basic uniform to make it one’s own—90% of the swatches for the collection are organic or natural fibers because I would think the artificial environments and materials of space might make one long for something more “natural,” especially with something as intimate as the clothing that separates a persons skin from everything else. It’s also luxe and sometime more durable). Aesthetically, details like cording, high waisted pants, draped tops, high necklines, and asymmetrical hemlines reoccur as a design through line in the collection. Utilitarian features, like zippers and velcro closures, do double duty as both functional and aesthetic elements. A practical zipper on a detachable long sleeve becomes the decorative beam on the short sleeved version. Velcro tans on an exaggerated drop-crotch pant transform the garment from a maxi silhouette into short and leggings combo. I admit, this comes from my unironic love of those weird convertible bridesmaids dresses that people always end up lazily tying around their neck. Look Details (the Coverall): That’s why there is a “fashion coverall” in this collection—I know from experience that those are the comfiest work pajamas, ever, and even though this collection is supposed to exist a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, I did want to reference some contemporary trends and needed a non-catsuit jumpsuit, and tailored coveralls seem very classic in a way that could be stylish beyond the current moment. I wanted to use design to solve actual practical problems. For example, instead of the traditional buttoned cuffs and collar, I chose to use a ribbed knit on both the neck and 3/4 sleeves. It is more comfortable and easy to wear, works just as well in a hot engineering space or in the colder climate controlled server spaces and Officer decks of a ship, and prevents the clothing from getting caught on equipment and becoming a liability on trouble calls or planet-side laser melee. The knees have built-in padding, and Velcro patch details, so our girl can switch allegiances fairly easily. The only thing is the lack of pockets. A cargo short is an amazing idea. In the abstract. I have never seen one in public that did not look like an Eldrich Abomination. If someone needs to Cary so much stuff in their pockets that their pants look like they are hiding the legs of Yogsheggoth, perhaps it’s time to consider carrying a bag. I’m looking at you, Dudes. Also, the belts and harnesses of the collection were designed with detachable pockets and specialized equipment in mind. I kind of wish I designed the piece with a jodhpur or cigarette leg silhouette instead of a boot cut. Both the jodhpurs and cigarette leg would have been more interesting, especially if I had also designed a short, romper version of the piece. Final Thoughts (for now...): I don’t expect anyone to have read all the way through this, and if you have, thanks! Feel free to contact me with any questions, requests, random musings, like, share and follow. I’ll try to be less wordy in the future. A Word of Thanks to the Fashion Illustration Class: I really enjoyed that class. Everyone of my classmates had different skills, experience, and came from a lot of different disciplines (for example, I make comics and work in advertising, some were animators, some fashion students, and one was an editorial photographer who didn’t draw well in the conventional sense of it, but drew croquis that had the character of a Mondiglioni and could convey not only the sense of the garments, but the personality of the girl who wore them). We talked about everything, asked a lot of good questions, and hyped each other up for fashion in general. I will say that out of the many years of studying various art disciplines in various classrooms and open critiques, this was the first time I experienced colleagues as open and giving as these classmates were. I’m used to a lot of pushback and blank stares during critiques (especially when I give them—I obviously talk a lot, and connect ideas to a lot of obscure references—“consider the jodhpurs,” “you seem really into minimal geometric patterning—write down ‘Ainu’ and look up their textiles and mouth tattoos,” “there is something very vaporwave about this non-binary collection, I see a lot of pastels and navy,” “I know exactly who the girl is that wears this collection—she converted an Arizona ranch into a minimal art gallery in the middle of nowhere, collects antiques from the late 1950’s and Kieth Harring prints, and makes excellent margheritas...”—and then they would use my suggestions by the next critique! WHAT!!?!), but people really listened and we all tried to understand each others point of view and encourage one another. I loved that class.