#it's like people understand that artists have these hard lines for reasons right? tangible internal reasons?

[legionofpotatoes]

Not the same anon as the matrix art ask, but there are plenty of artists I've seen who have a general "do not use my art for anything" rule simply to make their stance very clear on people not using/reposting their artwork without permission

Granted, thieves are gonna thieve anyway, but I guess it helps minimize people trying to take your words out of context. I've seen plenty of assholes take "personal use" to mean "oh, so I can sell your art for my own profit, cool" and then shit talk the artist when they get called out for being a scummy prick (uncommon, sure, but I've seen it enough times to know it's a real issue)

Obviously, there's no harm in using someone's art as your background/wallpaper if that's genuinely your intention, but I think anyone asking for permission to do so is probably aware of the art theft junk to some degree and is honestly just trying to be respectful

my caveats with "personal use" were private, individual, and non-commercial. I definitely don't go around touting those two words freely either, and I deal with enough art theft to force me to partition a separate work day every month to curate takedown requests. I'm as jaded as they come, I'd like to think.

and sure, those are all good and sound arguments for someone's internal moral compass and I respect that, and I fully appreciate them in almost every other case of "use"; be it reposting, roleplaying, using as icons or banners, tattooing them on, etc. since all of those uses, in some shape or form, imply public display of those images that will then invite the audience's eye and drastically improve artist discoverability if a credit is slapped on, but will create an invisible two-step barrier that most will not work to engage with if that credit isn't there. I get all that, and I aggressively champion authorship credits in my overall content sharing etiquette on the internet, for those exact reasons.

But I'm gonna be 100% honest with you here, when it comes to background pictures for my extremely private goober that I carry around in my own pocket and use with my own two eyes and no one else's, I tend to just save and set whatever wallpaper I want? 😬 it falls into a completely different category of "use" to me. again, I am not saying I don't appreciate the respectful place these asks are coming from, but they do truly baffle me on some level when I try to imagine that headspace: how would an artist be a) impacted monetarily; b) lose even granular awareness; c) or even find out to then exercise some other form of arbitrary reasoning? it's a bit strange!

but I'm not gonna like die on this hill cause everyone asking is a total sweetheart and again I love where it is coming from. But it is still strange with the lockscreens! is all I'm saying 😅

[incarnateirony]

It’s... Supernatural.

You know, we all say we love this show or respect where it came from, but there’s a perspective that screams beneath the surface that I think a lot of people don’t really grok

Lines float around, about Eric not having anything big under his belt before it or not thinking the show would make it year to year, or him saying it became more than he could ever imagine -- we know that in practice, but I think very few people understand what it really reduces to. I have a tumult of feelings right now in a way that’s strangely personal.

If you look at Eric Kripke’s history -- really look at it -- before Supernatural he really had two projects. They were self-written and directed shorts. Some of you know the friendships I have littered around the industry. Some are still at this point. Some have made their break. And I’ve been on both sides of that fence. He also had his weird little Tarzan thing he pitched around the same time, but it fell on its face pretty fast.

But Supernatural... Supernatural is honestly the story of a young author, respectively a kid, who had a lot of Ideas(TM). You’ve been that person -- hoping the right person would see the brilliance you had floating around in your braincase and give you a shot, or tell you what you needed to fix so they would.

Kripke was a young man with a lot of Ideas(TM). And he went in with his first idea and it tumbled in, and that’s okay, he reworked it. And he laid his idea out there prostate and a few names looked at it and said... I’ll sign on. I think this kid has something.

We can bitch about, say, Robert Singer all we want -- I do definitely believe he’s kind of uh, lost his edge with age. But he’s part of that. There were a handful of Industry Olds that got their hands on it and said... sign me on.

We can see this in action in other CW shows, such as The Outpost -- another fandom you may remember I’m avidly involved in, or was -- I got some personal news about Things(TM) I can’t/won’t talk about that have hurt personal friends I have on that team that have made me distance from it, but Arrowstorm is still a phenomenal indie team that was given a chance when Dean Devlin of Electric Entertainment looked at it and said, “you know what, these kids have something.” And now a bunch of awesome D&D nerds that used to use Kickstarter to fund feature films indie at 75K a pop have a CW show moving into their second year.

And myself, before my life collapsed in on itself from domestic violence, when I met my first good friends that had Names(TM) -- Susan, Jerry, Bruce -- I won’t namedrop more specifically beyond that -- that started motoring my work around to get it where it needed to be to, well, exist. 

When you start like that, you still don’t have much. Your budget is... kind of hilariously small. You’d be shocked the kind of jumping jacks you learn to make 40K make for starter funding before you get rolling into your bigger contributions and budgets. The things you turn over in your head with a mix of your own young ingenuity and senior guidance from people who have run this mess before.

But this little show from this dude with next to no history got a few names and held this distant dream that, if he was lucky, maybe he could have a five year plan. He writ out a few pages of loose overlay and stepped in. He had what was essentially a backwater network that ran low ratings anyway that gave him a little bit of liberty, but he always knew he was riding that line, “smoke em while you got em.”

Jensen Ackles has said when he looked at the script he thought, gee, they had a chance of... maybe running a couple of years. 

It had its struggles. Its ups and downs. While it almost petered out mid original plan, Kripke got his new lightning in a bottle: Misha Collins. And they’ve spared nothing on set talking about how much of an impact they made. They cleared their five years... and were shocked to order more.

In time, once Kripke had that under his belt, he went on to other plans and other visions -- which I am so goddamn happy for him even if they haven’t had the same longevity and general success of Supernatural. 

They never planned for a season 6. Which, honestly, is a good deal of why I feel Gamble era was such a mess. Kinda a raw deal she just sort of cobbled together and ran with in the end. But they got their ducks in a row. And they kept going... and going.

This little engine that could that came out of, essentially, a nobody’s dream and the faith of a few solid industry names willing to give it a chance exploded into an international phenomenon that, by the last handful of years, became one of the top 20 digital shows in the world. It’s defied the writer’s strike, the advertiser crash, the digital boom, it’s just survived.

No, it hasn’t just survived -- it’s thrived.

I have so many emotions about this that I’m having a hard time really speaking it. Because myself, my friends -- past and current and now even on other shows -- like, there’s a tangibility to this mind blowing reality that no, in no way is this my show. But I am so. Damn. Happy. For Kripke, and for everybody involved.

Sure, Supernatural has evolved in a way that it’s vastly different from Kripke era. But there isn’t a single soul that has any reckoning of what we’ve really watched grow that wouldn’t imagine him looking back with true pride at his little baby all grown up... and finally, fifteen years later, as a record breaking timeless phenomenon -- finally retiring.

It’s easy for assholes to take shots about “just the CW”, but it takes a hell of a lot of awareness to really understand what this was.

I don’t just... pick shows to pick shows. I don’t pick them because they’re hot or the It Thing(TM). I might watch a few for a few seasons for that, but if I take it to heart and keep it in interest, it’s because I’m enraptured by the crew. By this fandom that mailed in post cards and set a new precedent.

There’s things about the fandom that drive me nuts in the bad way -- sure. But goddamn this crew has me heart and soul for all of their work. So congratulations to Kripke for his baby being all grown up and making so much history, and thanks to every other showrunner and author and director and editor and wardrobe worker and makeup artist and set designer and composer and coordinator and COFFEE RUNNER that has put their work into it, even if at times some of us have had conflict with what person 1, 2, or 3 decided to do at any time.

J2M’s decision was theirs and theirs alone, and not an easy one for a great number of reasons. Their friends, the crew, the impact it’s had on the BC Film Industry, on the world, on... charitable endeavors and mental health awareness. Kripke surely never imagined any of that when he started but I’m sure he’s goddamn proud and he’s probably crying and full of emotion like most of this fandom right now.

I’ll plug this video one last time. Not for myself or my views or whatever, but to really appreciate how much time and soul is in this show, and what we’ve got. And never take that for granted. 

Never let the Supernatural family die.

Ever.

[djphatrick]

Bambu: 'My Music Is Here To Push People To Organize' May 20, 20176:33 PM ET "I want you to feel uncomfortable," Bambu says. "It's how I walk in the world every day." Jonah Deocampo grew up in Los Angeles in the 1990s, one of the estimated 3 million members of the Filipino diaspora in the United States. At 15, he got involved with Filipino street gangs, which eventually led to an arrest for armed robbery. At that point — on what he describes as the "advice" of a judge — he joined the Marines. Today, he's Bambu DePistola: a community activist and rapper with a committed following in underground hip-hop circles. Bambu's message is uncompromising — for some, uncomfortably so — and he's begun to attract more widespread attention through opening shows for Common and collaborating with Killer Mike of Run The Jewels. Bambu spoke with NPR's Michel Martin about his youth in LA, why hip-hop appealed to him as the child of immigrants and how he's responded to critics who say his music is too negative. Hear their full conversation at the audio link, and read on for an edited transcript. Michel Martin: Let's start with the art. Did you grow up thinking of yourself as an artist, as a rapper? Bambu: No, for me, especially, it just started with rapping about the gang and the neighborhood and the things we were doing, and reflecting that back to the neighborhood homies. And we would freestyle — where you just improv — and I found that I had a knack for that, and I practiced over and over again. It wasn't until I got out of the military that I really pursued it as a career. Michel Martin: Let's talk a little bit about your experiences as a young man growing up in LA. Can you paint a picture for us? Bambu: I grew up [with] immigrant parents in Los Angeles in the late '80s, early '90s. There were gangs — black gangs, Latino gangs. MS [-13] was just getting started, which is a [Salvadoran] gang. ... It was wartime mentality in Los Angeles at that time. You're talking about a lot of working-class immigrants being confined in these communities and these youth having no real outlet and already feeling like not a part of the society. So it was part of our assimilation; it seemed more tangible to us. Michel Martin: Why is that? Because a lot of people will say, "Oh, that's just making excuses, everybody has a choice." Bambu: You have to understand the mentality of youth at that time, especially being young immigrants. Our parents don't speak English; our parents are very disempowered, and they echo that into the household, so empowerment is something that we constantly crave and look for. And when there's a street gang that stands up for themselves, that is under the guise of protecting our community — young black and brown youth organized in this way — that's appealing. That feeds the teenage angst where you really have no outlet. Especially in Los Angeles, especially being poor, there was not a whole lot of things for you to do. Michel Martin: What's the famous phrase — that rap is the CNN of the streets? It really expresses a reality. And now there are a lot of rappers who are very mainstream — I mean, Snoop Dogg's doing a show with cooking maven Martha Stewart, right? And yet your work is still very hard-edged. There's a level of anger in it that I think stands out. Bambu: That's hip-hop. What attracted me to hip-hop was the same thing that attracted me to the gangs: It was unapologetic, and that is what I needed at the time. It's the same reason the military appealed to me. It fed that side of me that I felt was lacking, growing up in a community where you really don't feel like you belong, where you're watching television where the people don't look like you, where you have police that make sure you don't cross a certain boundary or a certain line — you definitely don't feel like you're a part of the greater society. It wasn't til I joined the military that I really had conversations with white people that weren't "yes, officer," "no, officer." That was the first time. And for them it was the first time a lot of them had seen Filipino people. Michel Martin: So how do you decide now what it is that you want to say? Bambu: My process is that I don't think about the future. I think about the here and now; I think about what my son wants to hear from me after I'm long gone, how I represent my community. I want you to feel uncomfortable — it's how I walk in the world every day. My release is in that music, so it always comes off as abrasive and hard because that's the way it feels to walk in my shoes. Michel Martin: Your song "Routine" might bring that point home for some people. That is your son's voice on the track, is it not? Bambu: That is my son, yeah. Michel Martin: Did he hear you sing rhymes like "I know you wonder why I get nervous when you bring your Nerf gun outside/ 'Cause police see a little brown boy with a gun toy, that's on sight"? Or did you record them separately? Bambu: Absolutely, yeah, we have that conversation all the time. Kahlil, my son, goes to a school that is 95 percent black — all his friends are black. So these are questions that are already brewing in his head. And that song was written after Tamir Rice was shot. You know, thinking about my son and him playing outside with his friends with his toy guns — how could I not write that song? And what I found was, as opposed to getting softer on issues, I ended up going harder on issues because I know what my son's looking down the barrel of, in regard to what his future looks like, especially now in this climate. Michel Martin: Speaking of this climate, I'm wondering whether there are other people in the community — particularly the larger Filipino diaspora — who don't dig your act and basically think that it's too negative, doesn't reflect well on the community. Have you gotten that feedback, and if so, what do you say? Bambu: Yeah, from immediate family and beyond. There's a cultural thing of just keeping the family business quiet. Culturally, Filipinos don't want to put our stuff on blast, we like to keep it in-house — and I'm the complete opposite. My music is here to push people to organize, period. And so when I get hit with these internal criticisms — mostly by model-minority, fully assimilated Filipinos who possibly voted for Trump — they attack me and say I just need to keep my mouth shut and that we got it good and that Filipinos, as far as immigrants are concerned, we're a success story, blah blah blah. But they don't see what I see.

[elfoulyyt]

During our fifth module, we were tasked with responding to a text written by Louise Bourgeois. 

Let I Do, I Undo, I Redo be our motto? I don’t know.

TL;DR: Maybe. 

In three paragraphs, Louise Bourgeois describes the creative process with its ups and downs. The ‘alive’ moment, then the depression or ‘death,’ and then the revival. But, then, why do we continue? I think it’s the curse of being an artist – to be stuck in this endless cycle. However, I would argue that she doesn’t really elaborate on this. I mean, I like what she is saying, but not how she is saying it. How I envisioned each part is drastically different from the other parts, which is off putting for me. Each one has a different analogy. Like, the active state reminds me of physics and the different states of matter. Then, it’s talking about ‘unravelling,’ which reminds me of knitting for some reason. And then the third paragraph is described as the ‘solution’ which is referring to problem solving, and arguably, chemistry. Still, this text is right, in that there are different stages to creating/producing stuff. Do I think that it’s as linearly as stated or as simple as one, two, three – no. It’s much more complicated than that. We sometimes go back and forth much more. Sometimes, the redo stage doesn’t rekindle the sense that hope and love has been regained. Sometimes, you feel depressed all the way. Sometimes, you are smashing things all the way through. Sometimes, you are not confident at the end. Sometimes, you ARE confident at the end. The text makes it seem that this is what it is, and I don’t think that we are so static. It doesn't elaborate on the complexities of this whole thing. The process is tangible and should be unique to every person. We’re artists. Don’t let our individuality be crushed by categorizing our creative process. I’ve always believed that there is a metaphysical aspect in creating ‘art.’ Once we start adding steps and logarithms and all sorts of mumbo jumbo to how we think – what makes us different from maths or science? (Sure, we can have steps for when we are learning how to do something, but not a guide from A-Z, detailing how we think about everything we are going to do ever. It just doesn’t make sense to me.) We’re innovators. We can’t comply with the norm. If we do, we’ll stagnate. If we keep following every trend, how does that differentiate us from the rest of society? We should be the leaders creating those trends, so we cannot simply agree and follow what everyone else is doing and thinks. And what really got to me was the line that states ‘things are back to normal.’ First, what is ‘normal?’ Second, I don’t think we’re ever normal. Third, I don’t want to ever be normal. Fourth, normality is nonexistent. Fifth, normality is a social construct. Sixth, normal means something different to everybody so I find it hard to relate. Normal for me, means boredom. Do I want to go back to boredom? No. Not really. Ideally, I want to be constantly creating, having adventures and always inspired. (Now, that's just the ideal situation, I know this is kind of impossible, but one can always hope!) These are my thoughts on the subject matter, and not necessarily criticizing the way Louise Bourgeois thinks about her creative process. (I actually looked her up, and her artwork is very fascinating! And after reading about her life, I’ve come to understand a lot of things about the metaphors/analogies she uses. Like, I didn’t particularly understand the connection of love to the process, but for her, that aspect of her life tremendously influenced her art – so, no wonder she includes it in her process! A lot of her work centers around themes such as sexuality and insecurity, which links to her father’s infidelity, so that’s why it plays role in this text. Also, it is notable that she first studied mathematics and geometry because she got “peace of mind, only through the study of rules nobody could change.” So, that may be why she makes her process look like steps, because she likes this. I studied science and mathematics right up until the end of high school (who could forget taking mechanics and quantum physics?) I do like them a lot, but I am more influenced by the visual and theory parts, and not the rules. The minute rules and equations come into play to say 'no, this is the only way' it makes me go ehhh. ) So, it didn’t echo with me. I believe that we all think differently, and this variation in our thoughts is beautiful. I just think that the basic points are somewhat true, but not an exact definition of the process – at least, not for me. I haven’t seen the world through Louise Bourgeois eyes, so I can’t identify with certain aspects she speaks about. The things that influence her process, are not what influence mine. But, to answer the titular question, I think that the title of the text is awesome. Not the most snappy or easy to say quickly, but it fulfills the role that we’re constantly working and reworking things. However, the text that is meant to support it is not something that I agree with exactly. I would write about how I think and make, but in all honesty, it depends. I think the best analogy I could come up with (for me and for now) is that it’s like sailing (which I’ve never done!). How well you sail is dependent on the sea and your steering. One is controllable and the other is out of your control. The sea is all the external factors. The ship is our medium. The action of steering is our way of controlling the external and internal factors, and to direct ourselves to our desired destination. The wind is those sudden moments of inspiration that sometimes blow our way, and sometimes don’t. You reach new places, sometimes places with no one or places with some people or a lot of people and you keep going.