#multi-column radiators

[notmuchtoconceal]

On the multi-tiered dais where father sat, all was in order around him, save for where there was discord -- for around father, all was discord.

As the herdsmen could not maintain their offerings, nor the ritual purity of his martial sons, nor the contemplative awe of those scribes which troubled him, the order father maintained parted into strands of flux, and unjoined and rejoined according to the whims of sub-atomic fluctuations our instruments could not detect, but measure only in probabilities. 

A great bellow seized the room -- shaking it to its foundations. 

- Ah! I aint Columbo! Nuh-uh! I ain't a conveyor-belt douche-nozzle industrial showa fixture! I'm a good Christian Redfield. (Outta left field!) 

It was not father's voice, for he had taken to slumber upon his throne, a chocolate mousse sticky to his shorn cheeks, awash in nostalgic waves of static from a cathode ray cube of Midland Laurentian manufacture -- its primitive display screen subtly bulbous, so from some angles the image would seem to swell as though from a central porthole.

- I'm Columbine High School. I'm Columbus, Ohio. Why, I ain't Magenta, no-siree! Imma entire country of Colombia -- what's left of it anyway!

Cpt. Haruspex was on top of father with a reassuring pat -- whenever he carried his historical meditations into wakingness. 

- It's all right, dad! Nobody's going to ban Doom! Contemporaneously, it's considered a classic! They actually teach it in schools nowadays!

Glass rained down upon his throne, cutting him with frosted sugar.

The wedge of a beam of cast-iron flew across the hall and ricocheted off Cpt. Psychorrhagia's forehead, skidding across the tile into a buffet table manned by none but two wait staff.

He stood there -- a whiplash in his atlas vertebrae, slightly dazed. He was aware the vibrations had shifted the big ugly box on its pedestal -- a charming marble column inlaid with veins of amber and gold dust, whose hand-fissured cracks had sprouted countless buds of gelatin ivy grown from the matter of a thousand pulped honeycombs.

Cpt. Haruspex -- reassurances unceasing -- slid the utility proboscis from his belt, and pinched its neck 3/4ths from the top -- to distend the radial prongs from the node at the bulb of its vertical tip :-- his hand dropping another 3/8ths to twist a concealed dial and distend the membranes by stalks and stretches across the prongs -- creating an umbrella he held between him and the debris as he twirled. 

- You can play it usin nothin but another man's prostate! You can move me around the screen on your inner-eye by makin inputs with my butthole! Pretty as a picto! It's the wonders of technology, dad. 

Shards of glass shimmered in the dense, lacquered pitch of Cpt. Psychorrhagia's clumped and slickened mane.

The portal displayed two images simultaneously -- neither one program, nor the other -- and Cpt. Psychorrhagia twisted the breadth of him along the slender pivot of his waist -- glutes tightening on the final push forward off his boots -- so that he seemed to hang there, in suspended half-motion before you -- the heft of his granite ass – wet as greasy locks pressed against the sheen of his leather. He gripped with the stiffness of his heavy, powerful arms -- so powerful for such a young man -- those slender apparati so much like insect-antennae in wafts until the picture was clear, and with a smoothness similarly half-lubricated retracted his back -- to return to the noble solemnity of his watch -- his eyes always-present on father, glancing from time to time, over to you.

- Would you like to have a go at it right now, dad? You can bet your ass you can bet yours beat! Best off me bein a real rough customer! 

Cpt. Psychorrhax -- in the background -- had already fireman carried one of the injured waitstaff to safety -- and was now hobbling towards the medkit concealed inside an antique radiator with the other. 

The doors of the breakfasting hall, which father had dedicated to his morning leisure, swung open and from their oak-carved scenes of jasper-inlaid pastoral splendor, Cpt. Schreibermachen strolled forward with Cpts. Hlaford and Drythen in the rear -- and stating truthfully, it occurred only now what an odd twosome they must have been. For you had never seen either converse with one another -- only each with Cpt. Schreibermachen or with the other -- and you wondered, with a curiosity you felt alien to you -- the nature of their rapport while on patrol. What the three revealed to one another in the solitary tirades which came about henceforth in the explorations of their hidden talents.

- Splendid news, father!

Joey belted, as a cock would herald the dawn.

:-- We've received word from the grand anarchist council! 

The anarchists of your era -- were well-known for their penchant for publicly-and-outwardly-transacted central organization. 

 -- Their words, father -- are leaden with a certain flamboyance and falsity! There is much about them which is terrible, and much in their implications which is dread and stirring! They would doubtless mortify men of juvenile countenance, and send those bestial among us into fits of rage ;-– allow me to share a few of them with you now!

The words of the anarchists were fit for father's ear --

and so too for personal and public redaction. 

- Damn, Joey.

Cpt. Haruspex swung the umbrella now gently as the fan of a palm.

... Those anarchists sure do have a fancy prose style.

He whistled.

In awe of the beauty and terror of our adversaries.

... I don't think I've ever heard anyone make pronouncements quite that ungainly and dramatic before!

Cpt. Schreibermachen did not clear the air so much as crystallize.

- My being a literary scion in our homeland, Haruspex -- it would not be shocking to expect a few admirers amidst the ranks of our enemies. Poetry is, after all, the great unifier. Were our nation not already well-held in father's soft and pretty baker's hands, I would suggest after a libation and a few rounds of incense, intoxication by rule of a council of muses!

There was something about the golden hours of morning that made Joey seem even more blonde, brainless and vigorously Teutonic than the crisp, dry hues of the noon and after.     

- Scribbles? Scribbles, where'd you go?

Father didn't have his eyes in.

... I been lookin everywhere for you!

Father couldn't see shit when he don't have his eyes in.

... Scribbles? Scribbles, did you bring me my paper?

Joey received him graciously, having much left to deliver.

- Better, father! The hydra which constricts our country has rolled onto its back to expose many miles of its tract of neck! I beseech you, highest and most holy, that I your most gallant son should be best now beset upon this task! Trust in my faith to you, father! ;-- and I shall see our country prosper! I shall see you cherished by the distillations of later generations as not only a conqueror, a philosopher, a reconciler, a mystic, but a playboy, a showman and a boon to the arts! Hear my words, father! Do not strike at your son who prophesies when his every word foretells the shapes of the stars for you! You who are as the crown will shine as a crow in flight as I resculpt the veritable matter of our physiques from the cells up!

Cpt. Haruspex -- out of boredom perhaps -- continued to twirl his umbrella. Light from the membrane which enjoined the flaps streamed through the broken window and illuminated the cloudiness and imperfections of the material -- in their structures, they were as the honeycombs before they had been pulped -- the honied translucence of the leaves shuffling out cloudbursts back into kelpy mass

Cpt. Psychorrhax -- straightening his lapels -- stepped forward.

- May I approach, father?

- No.

- I speak on behalf of Cpt. Schreibermachen, sir. I have personally observed him in his preparations to grip this blight which rots our city-state by its root. He has collected, over the months between now and the last bombing -- which was not (as the odious free press which oppresses your reign reported) a bungled mismanagement of catastrophic negligence which claimed the lives of many comely and able-bodied men -- but a deliberate subversion of your will by hostile forces too alien and microbiological to be glimpsed by the naked eye.

- Whaddya you know? Why ain't Scribbles tellin me this?

- Cpt. Psychorrhax is my closest and most cherished attendant, father! As you yourself know well, the meager details and nuts and rods of the implementation -- the route tedium that comes with putting a plan into action -- these can become obscured from an aerial perspective, being tasks better-handled by those best-suited to crawl along the ground!

Cpt. Schreibermachen's hand -- which had been grasped firmly around Cpt. Psychorrhax's shoulder -- crept now downward, savoring each descent and taper of its journey across the stolid hull of his lats -- 

- That is correct, father!

(This was Psychorrhax talking now)

-- and lower still... down the small of his back --

… very much can pass for human error in the scheme of things :-- particularly in a structure as vast, ornate and precise as our ruling body.

-- where he caressed him by the back of palm --

... there can be equally little doubt, however -- that in a body as broad and yet of deceptively compacted strength as ours --

-- he came down with a smack to cup the pony-like swell of his ass.

… more than an atypical allotment of contaminants will well up! I have seen -- from Cpt. Schreibermachen's reports, no doubt --

-- his smile twists -- catlike.

... much evidence to suggest that many of the incidences of damage to supply lines and other infrastructural failures have been --

He cuts off a moan -- biting his lip.

... especially in an environment so gifted as to receive your rule -- calculated attempts by enemy forces -- less simple wear and tear from constant overuse and a history of negligence which spans backwards decades. No. It only takes a few rogue cells, father --

He gasps -- laughing now.

 -- to create a mass tumescent enough to strangle the organism whole!

Cpt Schreibermachen was laughing, too.

- Joey, don't fondle me in fronta dad -- bro

He sounded way less fuckin stupid when ya wanted to kick his ass.

... he's not gonna take me serious!

Joey was leaning in. Standing upright, he leaned in best.

- You want me to stop?

It wasn't a question. He weren't expecting an answer.

… lil bro?

Cpt. Psychorrhax ceased to breathe as he looked to him

… make me.

Joey knocked off Laika's cap . He had taken him beneath the back of his skull. Was devouring his face. Tasting. On his lips, and on his teeth -- the pungent spices of eggs and sausage -- coffee and the salted butter -- tasting so many amino acids on Laika's lips that were not his own -- and yet which would inevitably become ; -- and Laika looked to him, nearly limp -- that stupid look of someone who had never lost it all, and could expect much, in turn-- lips quivering as he was wolfy and sheepish.

Brux ... continued to twirl.

- No, no -- I think Laik might be onto somethin, dad -- y'know. Literate men -- they're dangerous. They get heads full of ideas. They go around -- given their ideas to other people. Soon people're out -- readin books. Lookin at other people with crazy fancies. Not doin any work. Maybe they're all readin the same book -- who knows? Maybe it's a real popular book! Maybe they wanna go around bullyin ya cause ya don't read their favorite book. They talk about the characters -- y'know. Ya don't know who they are. They use the stories -- as reference points -- like you should know. Gosh, mates -- what's even worse is when there's two people livin in the same area, and they each got their own popular book -- they never get along! All they wanna do is hound ya! They wanna know which book it is ya like more, and don't accept it none when ya say ya ain't read any book -- whaddya mean ya ain't read both their books? Whaddya mean ya haven't picked a favorite (Even fuckin stupider when both their books are by the same author, and it's somethin goofier like... I dunno. The editor or the translator or the commentor or somethin is different, and sometimes it's just the rhymes are different, or maybe there's not one or none, but sometimes it's like... wow, we readin the same story, the same characters? We gettin into some complicated shit, and you're actin like I gotta have my mind made up now. Join your club. Be on your team. Say the exact same magic words when we sit down to try'n have a dinner without killin each other ;-- Holy shit. You book people, I swear!) Like, what's the goddamn matter? I'm sure ya both got great books -- basically I've heard all the stories in em already, been talkin to so many people -- whaddya want me to do, quote it at ya? Make ya feel like we had the same experience cause we stared at the same page? Mate, why don't ya invite me back to your place? We'll read your book -- you can read it to me! We'll get some wine -- sounds sensual. Why can't that be how ya do it, mates? Why can't ya just sit down and read your books to each other instead of tryin to kill each other all the time, huh? What'd those books have to say to make you act this way, goddamn.

Cpt. Psychorrhax ;-- in the intervening moments --; had found himself once more wholly vertical. 

Father meanwhile ... had stopped paying attention.

- All right, kid. Give ya a shot.

He looked first from his nails. Then back to Joey.

... Just don't do anything too crazy. 

Cpt. Schreibermachen ...--... bowed his head.

- I promise, father --...-- to surpass every example you have set for me.

( o )

Joey took to the square – and fired his pistol at each malfunctioning light fixture so that upon the crowds a spring rain fell one day, at the points in the interwoven lattice where heat met once more the dry brown leaves. 

 - ANARCHISTS, ANARCHISTS COME OUT!

Windows caked with grime collapsed into the streets. There, sticky floors knew once more light from out the dinge of an ever-unending half-day.

- I WOULD LIKE TO SPEAK WITH YOU ABOUT THE LOGISTICS OF TRANSITIONING INTO A STATELESS SOCIETY 

The conglomerated structures which were the outflow of State Finance into the ventricles of the Imperial Palace bore the marks of Joey's wrath.

For you could see plainly the fine utility of non-contradiction which composed his thought – for to attack our allies so brazenly, no doubt – aside from further concretizing the power and influence of the Guard – would agitate any bacterial elements which had penetrated into the insulated body – inducing a heave, the channels of which might flow into the more open cesspits of Free Thought you had less cause to attack openly, for there would be more just cause for later retaliation.

– STATE AUTOPHAGY NOW

( o )

( o )

STATE AUTOPHAGY NOW

[charlottejacksonfineart]

Tom Waldron: Steel and Concrete

April 26 - May 25, 2024

Opening Reception for the Artist: Friday, April 26, 5 - 7 PM

The eye follows a smooth plane, curving gently in pitch, slope on slope, sweeping to meet and create a line. A deep rust form tilts, leaning, forming a deeply shadowed side. A sharp, faceted arc sweeps to a point. Softly interwoven curves braid together in a column. A round oxidized shape seems to fold up on itself, caught in a moment just before it sprouts wings.

It is a trick of sculpture to put us squarely into the here and now. Mass. Volume. Weight. Sculptures inhabit space with us and we with them. They alter the air’s flow through a room. They radiate their own minute gravity. Fully art object, whether molded or cast, carved or welded, sculptures remind us that our world is multi-dimensional – not solely existing in the 2D hybrid mind/light no-space of our screens.

Tom Waldron’s work not only brings us to attention but challenges our perceptions with its deceptively simple forms. It is likely no surprise that Waldron’s entrance into artmaking was spurred by his love of the materiality and physicality of the process. The challenge and intense focus required of welding, it’s possibilities and generative power led Waldron to leave his studies in architecture to pursue sculpture.

Steel and Concrete brings together a disparate collection of Waldron’s work in different mediums. While he is best known for his steel pieces, this show also incorporates works in concrete, a dense gypsum plaster (Hydro-stone), and even in wood. The concrete and wood pieces have evolved slowly in relationship to the steel works. First, as simply materials for pedestals and bases. However, over time, sometimes the line between sculpture and pedestal would blur. Later, Waldron began to take some of the curved cardboard constructions that he creates as models for his steel works and use them as molds to cast concrete or hydro-stone pieces. In this format, Waldron saw the possibilities of using them like modules. Using wood allowed Waldron to explore wall-mounted work because of its lighter weight – but the medium also allowed him freedom to alter and find forms not possible in steel.

The pieces in Steel and Concrete, in each medium exemplify these different properties and effects – the steel pieces with their gently curved volumetric masses tend to encapsulate or bloom into space. Sledge, at over eight feet,and Agave, at five,seem like massive geometric creatures frozen in a moment of twisting growth. Ledge 2 tricks the eye into seeing a rectangular block from one angle – which then bulges and puckers from another. Mounted on a concrete base, Spoonful, inverts Waldron’s more familiar convex curves with a smooth concave scoop out of the sharp-edged steel square.

The concrete pieces included in the exhibition are all columnar – composed of regular interlocking shapes and modules which showcase the motion of uprising lift and rhythm. Shadow Column includes both a wood base and cap which contain a smooth, white, braided sculpture of hydro-stone within. Fan Column, on its wood plinth, is a complex composition of interlocking arced forms in alternating muted colors. His most recent piece, Six Color Column is comprised of gently curved blocks fitted together to create an undulating tower.

Finally, the wood piece, White Cloud 3, explores the same fascination with curved planes and elegantly intersecting lines as Waldron’s steel works – but makes good use of its lighter weight to create a more delicate shape that seems to sail out abstractly from the wall.

Step by step, each sculpture of Steel and Concrete leads the viewer through an experience, from objective observation through to subjective co-existence. Frozen curves intimate at the gentle slowing down of time. (We pause. We notice.) The density of the large steel works grounds our feet into the floor. (We find balance in space as they balance so elegantly in their twisted curved forms.) And the columns, rising slenderly toward human height, feel like fellow beings. (We stand with them, being.)

[childhoodadventures]

A little Dream on Paper: A Hot Air Balloon and a Peach Pie

Dedicated to my father, who helped me keep this story alive with kindness and creative encouragement.  

When I was young I used to travel in a hot air balloon to all the magical corners of the world while eating a peach pie. To be honest, I’ve never had a peach pie. I’m not even sure if it would taste good or if it would be something I'd like, but the idea of it made my mouth water in anticipation. 

In a meadow surrounded by a sea of valleys, my family and I would board a basket suspended a few inches off the ground by a hot air balloon. These were meant to be short trips, so we only brought along a picnic basket with a knife, 5 napkins, and a giant peach pie.

It was a lush spring day and the only warmth we needed was radiated by the sun. The air was tart like the pie in our basket and the ambience was honeyed in the presence of loved ones. Exciting is not the best word to describe these trips, rather, they were appetizing. I tasted the wind on my skin and my eyes feasted on the multi-course banquet of the world. Each continent, each country and city, contained experiences that can only be appreciated through the senses. On this particular day, we decided to visit the seven wonders of the world- a most extravagant feast. 

Ready to take off, my father released a large stone from the side of the basket, and the balloon set sail, hovering into the sky. With no controls or tiller for steering, we become passengers, placing complete trust in the balloon and the current. We float high above mountains and rivers, pointing at neighboring birds and impressive bodies of water below, consuming all of nature’s artistry and basking in each other's awe. 

The pyramids of Chichén Itzá Mexico, stand sharp and firm. Proud architectural designs radiate the honor and integrity of Mexican pride. The balloon floats close enough for us to see the intricate carvings of mayan hieroglyphics but high enough for us to see the entire city. My eyes crinkle and my tongue captures the taste of various dry chilies and the acidity of lime zest.  But before I can fully digest the flavors, our balloon catches a gust of wind and we are sent on our way. 

Higher in the clouds, the air becomes thick and crisp. Our lungs tighten but our hearts loosen. We float comfortably in white fluff, unable to see the world below us. My mother extends her arm feeling the empty cotton glide in her hand. We float for some time. 

A tip of a mountain ascends from the clouds and the balloon begins to succumb to gravity. The picturesque city of Machu Picchu rises from the clouds with strength and vigor. A city so isolated is far from lonely and desolate. Every column, every turn, and every terrace, shares an intricate history rich with knowledge from a world that no longer exists. It is as grand as it is mysterious. But we leave the wonder behind with profound admiration, knowing that some secrets are better left untouched. 

We continue our journey to Brazil to shake the hand of Christ the Redeemer, and to bow down to the Taj Mahal in India. We shout across the Roman Colosseum just to hear our voices echo back, and travel adjacent to the Great Wall of China. With each stop, we are enlightened with reverence.

Continuing our journey to the final wonder, my mother opens the basket and cuts pieces of the peach pie, handing them out on small napkins. I take my piece and let the warmth of the pie melt in my hands. I still do not know what peach pie tastes like but I can only imagine it would dissolve on my tongue. The acidity of the peach and the flakey crust can only be a sated combination that would put an alchemist to shame. There is only one way to describe the act of eating a peach pie while floating in the clouds- the eighth wonder.

Lost in the sky and in the peach pie, we almost miss the seventh wonder and our final, but brief stop. The lost city of Petra remains unconquered and strong like the rock it is carved in. We travel close to the ground admiring a city that has adapted to the environment around it. Navigating through a narrow canyon, the pink sandstone is ornate with architectural designs that fade behind sand blowing in the wind. Like the desert around it, Petra stands fierce and immoral. 

The journey back to the meadow is not the end of the trip, rather the beginning of a new one. For I know, I will hop on the hot air balloon again and experience the world with fresh eyes and an open heart. With a peach pie in one hand, and my family in the other, I will continue to hold this story close to my heart for its symbolism reflects my inner-child, a nurturing father, and the power of a child's imagination.

A childhood story by Natalia Echeverria

[a544197231]

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[architectnews]

Ten student architecture projects from the University of Westminster

A project that examines restoring damaged peatlands in Scotland and another that addresses the housing needs of income poor young people in Beijing are included in Dezeen's latest school show by students at the University of Westminster.

It also includes a mycelium product factory where a repurposed prison provides ideal conditions for growing sustainable products and a redesigned climbing wall highlighting the connection between sport and the natural world.

University of Westminster

School: University of Westminster, School of Architecture + Cities Course: Architecture BA (Hons), Architecture and Environmental Design BSc (Hons), Interior Architecture BA (Hons), Architectural Technology BSc (Hons), Designing Cities BA (Hons), Master of Architecture (MArch) (RIBA pt II) Tutors: Constance Lau, Stephen Harty John Zhang, David Porter, Paolo Cascone, Panagiota Adileniduo, Ro Spankie, Diony Kypraiou, Allan Sylvester, Ana Araujo, Tabatha Mills, Adam Thwaites, David Mathewson, Elisa Engel, Kester Rattenbury, Sean Griffiths, Anthony Boulanger, Stuart Piercy, Callum Perry John Cook, Laura Nica and Ben Pollock

School statement:

"The School of Architecture and Cities offers a wide range of undergraduate and postgraduate courses as well as research degrees a few moments from Baker Street. Here, students can enjoy state-of-the-art facilities, including the extensive Fabrication Laboratory and dedicated open-plan design studios.

"Open 2021 is a rolling programme of events being created by the school's staff and students, which reflect the varied design approaches of the School of Architecture and Cities and their place at the heart of London.

"It will feature 750 student projects, drawing on the vast body of developmental and finished work imagined and realised over the course of the last academic year. The show will transform student work into digital assets, creating an extraordinary display of new architecture and a compelling visitor experience. The show opens on 17 June until 30 September."

The Bioengineering Experimental School of Architecture: Designing for the Prevention of Fires by Momchil Petrinski

"In this project, the notion of 'fire' from the laboratory experiments serves multiple purposes, from the 'gallery' for public knowledge, heat distribution to the surrounding buildings and the cultivation of the green spaces.

"The dense urban site of Little Britain and proposed Tower is approached as a Borgesian labyrinth where the ever-green public gardens extend across the horizontal and vertical landscapes, and resting places for the homeless community are embedded within the public realm."

Student: Momchil Petrinski Course: Architecture BA (Hons) Tutors: Constance Lau and Stephen Harty Email: mpetrinski321@gmail.com

Ideal Landscape from Luo Shen Fu Tu by Yunuo Zheng

"The proposal is a spatial narrative telling the ancient Chinese story of the painting Luo Shen Fu Tu created by the famous Eastern Jin painter Gu Kaizhi based on the plot of Cao Chi's work Luo Shen Fu.

"This is not just a love story – it is a story of frustration and anger caused by feudalism when people could only express thoughts and feelings through landscapes and myths. It is these landscapes and myths that give the form to an immersive exhibition situated in London."

Student: Yunuo Zheng Course:  Interior Architecture BA (Hons) Tutors: Ro Spankie, Diony Kypraiou, Allan Sylvester, Ana Araujo Email: rain_zyn@yahoo.com

Intercultural communal living as a catalyst for refugee integration by Anne-Flore Smits

"Nature avoids monocultures and lives in diversity to feed its system. The harmonious living between living forms is known as symbiosis. Through intercultural communal living, symbiosis is regenerated, where the forgotten lives of refugees can integrate back into society.

"With local and foreign amalgamation, the most vulnerable group in society can write their futures. The design of social-communal connectivity incorporates multi-use courtyards, creating a unique spatial arrangement within the male and female quarter and central community compound.

"A common roof with various environmental qualities ensures the proposed and established buildings receive minimal solar radiation, that is experienced in its extreme within Cameroon's Far North capital of Maroua."

Student: Anne-Flore Smits Course: Architecture and Environmental Design BSc (Hons) Tutors: Paolo Cascone and Panagiota Adileniduo Email: w1707968@my.westminster.ac.uk

 Ark for an Ant Tribe by Yuen-Wah Williams

"This project addresses the acute housing needs of well educated but income poor young people who come to Beijing to seek their future – affectionately known as the 'Ant Tribe' in China.

"The project is a co-living mega-block with floating courtyards, rooftop running tracks, and community programmes open to the broader neighbourhood at the ground level. The novel tectonics draws inspiration from traditional low-rises, high-density Hutong courtyards and local experiments in soviet-era social condensers.

"The generous and intensely social outdoor spaces become rooms in themselves, responds to the changing patterns of life in a pandemic."

Student: Yuen-Wah Williams Course: Architecture BA (Hons) Tutors: John Zhang and David Porter Email: yuenwahwilliams@gmail.com

Climb Air Theatre by Zhiqing He

"The conditions of isolation and lack of physical interaction due to the pandemic gave birth to this project with the aim of evoking memories of intimate communication stemming from the past. Inspired by The Phantom of the Opera, London's historic musical production (forced to close during the lockdown),  the proposal suggests an open interactive theatre, situated at St Dustan park in London.

"The audience gets invited to follow actors through the theatre's three main theatre stages and participate in distinct moments of the play while re-connecting them to each other through this musical, theatrical and spatial journey."

Student: Zhiqing He Course: Interior Architecture BA (Hons) Tutors: Ro Spankie, Diony Kypraiou, Allan Sylvester, Ana Araujo Email: 740655783@qq.com

The Arch Climbing Wall by Tom McGinnity

"The Arch Climbing Wall is located in Bermondsey, London. The redeveloped climbing centre uses all the existing building while also developing a new building adjacent to the existing one. The design aims to highlight the connection between climbing and nature.

"New climbing walls were positioned in the existing building to create an environment of valleys and mountains. The new building acts as the final challenge, with climbers able to scale the exterior of the building and the tall structure within. The new building is open-air with large use of open mesh, allowing climbers to connect with nature."

Student: Tom McGinnity Course: Architectural Technology BSc (Hons) Tutors: Tabatha Mills and Adam Thwaites Email: tommcginnity1@gmail.com

Old Kent Road: A New Precedent for Mixing Leisure, Manufacturing and Housing by Daniel Sefton

"By combining industrial, residential, and leisure spaces using innovative changes of level, land-use pressures in the inner city could be significantly alleviated.

"An undulating raised park set against the side of an existing recycling centre creates a pocket of urban rurality. Pavilions break through the park's surface for exhibition and retail space, with micro-manufacturing occurring on the submerged ground floor.

"HGV access to ground floors occurs through a road network beneath the park. The park removes both social and physical barriers that industrial land creates through controlled, increased public proximity to manufacturing and community-connecting active transport routes."

Student: Daniel Sefton Course: Designing Cities BA (Hons) Tutors: David Mathewson and Elisa Engel Email: Dan.sefton07@gmail.com

The Mycology Institute by Gemma Mohajer

"The Mycology Institute re-purposes existing buildings at Wormwood Scrubs Prison. Former cells provide ideal conditions for growing mushrooms, used to make sustainable products. The project extends one of the cell blocks creating a mycelium product factory.

"It forms a route to the scrubs and a public square created by demolishing the prison wall. The building is constructed using sustainable products, including rope elements, developed from chance operations. These are used as part of the roof structure and as a screen that shades the building and takes rainwater off the roof. Columns and floors reuse the 916,000 prison wall bricks."

Student: Gemma Mohajer Course: Master of Architecture (MArch) (RIBA pt II) Tutors: Kester Rattenbury and Sean Griffiths Email: gmohajer@hotmail.co.uk

The Rotherhithe Cooperative Press by Rebecca Gardner

"Newspapers are dying, and with them, an integral part of London's civic life and tacit skillset is at risk of extinction. The Rotherhithe Cooperative Press reinvents newspaper production, turning away from mass media favouring temporal print that focuses on specific events and protests.

"Through exploiting the natural diurnal cycle of the printing industry and the Thames, the scheme acts as a production framework and distribution network for marginalised media outlets at night whilst a community print-work mobilises the community to engage in protest during the day."

Student: Rebecca Gardner Course: Master of Architecture (MArch) (RIBA pt II) Tutors: Anthony Boulanger, Stuart Piercy and Callum Perry Email: r-c-gardner@hotmail.com

Peat Observation: Carbon Cycles through Plant Matter by Seni Agunpopo

"The project looks at preserving and accelerating the restoration of damaged peatlands in Scotland – one of the world's most effective carbon store/sinks.

"This project uses a wider parametric masterplan strategy of landscape probes and responsive blanket systems to alter and control the conditions of soil moisture, temperature and humidity, as well as the deployable modular research units that support the ongoing scheme."

Student: Seni Agunpopo Course: Master of Architecture (MArch) (RIBA pt II) Tutors: John Cook, Laura Nica and Ben Pollock Email: w1731831@my.westminster.ac.uk

Partnership content

This school show is a partnership between Dezeen and the University of Westminster. Find out more about Dezeen partnership content here.

  The post Ten student architecture projects from the University of Westminster appeared first on Dezeen.

[malecsecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @magnuslightwoodbane!

I tried to include as many of your likes as I could. You had so many fun ones, and I hope you enjoy! I’ve played a little fast and loose with the show timeline and sequence of events, and I hope that’s okay. This will be a six-part fic in total, and it’ll continue to be updated regularly.

Read on AO3

*****

a love supreme

Chapter 1

I.

A splash of icy cold water and snowy slush sprays up in an arc as Alec’s boots hit the ground hard. A loud shriek of shifting metal and then a clang echoes behind him, and the rusted ladder of the old fire escape he’d jumped down from drops straight to the pavement. He barely spares it a glance. His agility rune screams across his abdomen, working double time to keep him upright and surefooted when he immediately takes off running with only a half-second’s pause to right himself.

His quarry is already a good fifteen yards ahead of him, darting across a busy street for the alleyway beyond. The glint of the seraph blade at the man’s hip flashes in the streetlights, and then he disappears into the darkness.

Alec swears under his breath and speeds up.

Three months have passed since Valentine Morgenstern was found dead on the shore of Lake Lyn. Unfortunately, ideas are much harder to kill. The Clave and every Institute across the world has spent the interim hunting down what’s left of the Circle, but new pockets keep springing up like a goddamn fairground Whack-A-Mole.

New York has had more than their fair share, but with the way Valentine had narrowed his attention onto the city, it’s not surprising. Just a pain in Alec’s ass.

Reaching the street, he dodges between the flow of pedestrian traffic and races across, slow-moving cars allowing him to slip into the alley silently. The tall buildings to either side swallow up most of the light as he crosses the entrance, the illumination of the nearby streetlights creating a borderline on the pavement. He doesn’t know how far back the rest of his team is having left them behind as soon as he saw their last straggler make a break for it, but for the moment, he’s completely on his own. Alec slows, turning cautious as he keeps every step light and quiet. The cold stings his throat and lungs, breath fogging out into the air in drifting smoke.

There are too many noises coming at him from every direction, but it’s the one sound that shouldn’t be there that alerts him, a sound he’s intimately familiar with: the whisper of metal across leather, of a weapon being drawn.

He sees the brief glimmer of activated runes along the blade as it flips through the air, and then pain explodes across his shoulder and chest, radiating down his draw arm. His bow was going to be pretty useless in close-cornered combat, anyway, but he’s effectively been muzzled in that department now.

Alec has a split-second to rip the blade out before a shadow tears away from the right, slashing wildly at him. He feels the displacement of air in front of his face and ducks, rolling through the snow and grime and wet.

The momentum and force carries his opponent forward. The sword clashes against the brick of the opposite wall with a flash of sparks. Alec finds his feet and tightens his grip on the hilt of the dagger. He throws. The dagger hits, embedding itself in the man’s back. He stumbles, losing his grip on his blade and drops to his knees.

Alec yanks his bow from his shoulders and dives in close again. The curved back of the bow finds its place against the man’s fragile neck, and Alec yanks hard. There’s a brief struggle and then a snap, and he goes still, slumping in Alec’s hold.

Alec lets go, still breathing hard from the chase and the adrenaline and the pain, and he stumbles back to fetch himself up against the wall behind him. He feels a little light-headed. It’s possible that dagger found an artery.

He just needs a minute.

There’s movement at the mouth of the alley, another figure stepping into the darkness. Alec huffs, body tensing in preparation to throw himself back into another fight.

But instead of a blow coming, there’s a sigh of relief and a soft “tsk” of exasperation. The figure comes closer, stepping over the dead body, and the vague form now comes into sharp focus.

Magnus reaches out to settle his hand against Alec’s neck.

“You couldn’t have waited one second to let me come with you?”

There’s no real accusation or heat behind the words, and Alec smiles, “Sorry.”

Magnus shakes his head, fondness in his eyes that Alec loves to see, “Shadowhunters.”

Tiny pinpricks of cold alight along Alec’s cheeks and melt, and Alec turns his face up towards the sky as the snow begins to fall in earnest. With it comes almost a blanket of quiet over the city, seeming to muffle the somewhat distant sounds of traffic and people talking, off-key but enthusiastic carols being sung by a passing group of drunk friends. From somewhere nearby, a church bell tolls the hour, the beginning of a new day.

Cool fingers find his jaw, tilting his head back down, and he’s met with the warmth of Magnus’s smile to send a frisson of heat through his body. His head aches in a way that means he’s probably got a concussion, and he can feel blood still dripping sluggishly down his arm, but the dull throbbing pain of it is of far less concern then the taste of Magnus’s lips.

Magnus smirks a bit, and when Alec focuses again, it seems he’s noticed where Alec’s attention has drifted.

“You’re looking a little delirious. How much blood have you lost already?”

Alec shrugs, immediately wincing when his right shoulder protests with another sharp rush of pain.

“Eh, I’ve probably got a couple more pints in me, I’m fine.”

Magnus snorts, shaking his head again as he gets his arm around Alec’s waist and snaps his fingers. A swirling vortex of golden light appears in front of them.

“Well, I can’t say this isn’t the first Christmas I’ve spent patching someone up. Let’s get you home, hm?”

Alec nods, too tired now to argue that he needs to get back to the Institute. He’ll call Jace. At the very least, he can hold things down until Alec can come in. Something pings, then, at the back of Alec’s mind as they head for the portal, and he pushes through the fog and the pain to reach for it.

Oh. Right. Christmas. It has just turned into Christmas Day, hasn’t it? Nephilim don’t really go in for mundane holidays, but half of the Downworld were mundane at one point in time. It’s not a surprise that this time of year is more of a big deal for them nor that Magnus celebrates it, either.

“Hey Magnus?”

“Yes, darling?”

“Merry Christmas.”

The arm around his waist tightens a fraction, and Alec can hear the smile in Magnus’s voice when he answers, “Merry Christmas, Alexander.”

Chapter 2:

II.

The Hunter’s Moon is decked out for the holidays, red bows and garland along the bar top and multi-colored lights wrapped around the support columns. A large decorated tree stands tall in the corner by the jukebox, shedding pine needles and glitter onto the dingy floor. The place smells like stale beer and a little of wet dog on a good day, but there’s now an added scent of evergreen. Alec can’t decide whether it’s an improvement or not.

Cheery Christmas music plays over the sound system, some smooth voice singing about how cold it is outside. Maia’s got felt reindeer antlers sprouting from the thick curls of her hair, and the attached bells jingle every so often when she moves her head as she stands pouring a couple pints of beer at the tap.

Alec leans against the bar, one boot propped up on the bottom rung of a stool, and his eyes drift over Magnus’s profile as he waits for him to finish catching up with Maia.

There’s the shimmer of melted snow still glistening on his eyelashes, scattered like diamonds in the black of his hair. Gold eyeliner catches the light, sparkling as he tilts his head back in a damn near giggle, and Alec can’t help the smile that spreads across his own face in helpless response.

It hits him at random times just how lucky he is to have this man in his life, how different it could have been if they hadn’t met.

He catches sight of the mark he’d left on his throat the night before. It’s hidden well enough below the collar of Magnus’s shirt, but the long line of his neck as he laughs has it peeking out.

Gone are the soft, warm emotions to be replaced with something hungrier that twists low in Alec’s chest.

He wants nothing more than to take Magnus home and get him back into their bed. His mind conjures up thoughts of last night without any prompting, the wide spread of his hand against Magnus’s ribcage, the squeeze and slide of his thighs around Alec’s waist, the arch of his body beneath him.

“You’re staring, big brother.”

Izzy’s voice in his ear has a teasing lilt to it. He can see her smile before he even turns his head to look at her. She’s dressed nice, hair up in some fancy style that she usually only reserves for when she’s going out. Over her shoulder, he can see Clary shaking snow off of her jacket by the door.

The place is getting more and more crowded by the minute. Alec had thought, foolishly, that this would be a fairly tame affair for the night before a major holiday, but when the Downworld decides on a party, the community steps up.

Clary reaches them, giving Alec a bright and slightly damp hello as she tucks herself against Izzy’s side, but Alec is only half paying attention.

Magnus starts to step away, pulled into another conversation with a Seelie Alec doesn’t recognize. It feels like his chest constricts in that moment, the slowly lengthening distance between them already too much. He reaches out, hand curling gently around Magnus’s wrist to pull him up short. His skin is soft and smooth beneath Alec’s fingertips, pulse beating a steady rhythm against his thumb. He rubs back and forth across it, waiting.

There’s curiosity in Magnus’s eyes when he turns, the corner of his mouth tilted up in a slightly confused smile, but he lets himself be reeled in. Alec’s fingers slip lower. He grips Magnus’s hand, bringing it up as he ducks his head to lightly brush his lips across the back of his knuckles.

Magnus bites at his bottom lip, smile growing a little wider at the gesture, and Alec’s heart skip-trips a beat at the sight.

“Alexander?”

The soft honey of his voice around his name is probably Alec’s favorite sound in the world.

“Don’t go too far.”

He presses a last kiss to the bare skin of Magnus’s ring finger before releasing him.

Soon.

[etherian-affairs]

Hordak’s Cybernetics

So because I’m in cyber-vampire hell I’ve been thinking on Hordak’s modifications and expanding on this ficlet and I’ve decided to just go down the list on those because that sounds fun to me and that’s what this blog is for. Me having fun.

Feel free to use any of these ideas if you want, of course. You can expand on this very easily as well, I have simply gone with a combination of what I think creates what we have seen on screen with a sprinkling of what I think he would go for to ensure his work continues.

List under the Readmore

Pre-Etheria modifications: These I headcanon as given to him before his apparent stranding on Etheria. They form the backbone of future necessary modifications. 

Neural Interface: The bridge between biology and cyberware. Monitors the brain state to ensure the modifications perform as the body needs them and vice versa. It’s actually a multi-part system implanted into different parts of the brain and key parts of his species Endocrine system. 

Somnic Node: A Pea sized implant in the back of the brain. Grows into the brain and allows regional control of wake and sleep states. Allowing the brain to sleep in stages. It does not remove the need for proper sleep entirely but does drastically increase potential wake time. Off-label use as a secondary monitoring system for the brain.

Ocular Prosthesis: Two part modification. The eyes themselves as well as the required modifications to the visual cortex to allow for beyond-biology vision. Visual intercepts allow for essentially augmented reality overlays. In Hordak’s case this is largely used to monitor system functions. Come in a multitude of colors as well as an enhanced RGB variant for those who have earned it.

Move-By-Wire Suite: Near full replacement of the motor cortex as well as the spinal column. Motor control is given over to the new computer system in the motor cortex. Spinal prosthesis carries messages faster down the length of the body than the biological equivalent. Forms the basis of-

External Interface System: Large scale augmentation of the periphery nervous system coupled with exterior facing standardized connection ports for integrating with external hardware. Coupled with a modified motor cortex even allowing for adaptation to the use of extra limbs. The Horde does not recommend using third party adapters to connect with non-Horde equipment. 

Basic Battery Stack: Hordak’s initial modifications are by and large low draw components that can be piggybacked off of his biology for power. However a modest power stack is still required. 

Post Etheria Modifications: these were acquired after arriving on Etheria. Out of necessity from injury and incompatibility with the planet. 

Respiratory suite: Lung and Trachea replacement. Etheria’s atmosphere is unnatural, and in order to reliably breathe in it a system to filter out toxins and convert the air into a proper breathing mix was required. 

Internal Rebreather: A later addition to the respiratory suite. An internal rebreather is implanted on the trachea, allowing Hordak to respirate completely internally for moderate bursts of time. 

Artificial Heart: As a lifeform grows old its heart inevitably fails. Sometimes because you have been stabbed by a Rebel soldier. A replacement drastically extends ones lifespan. 

Mandibular modifications: When your jaw is heavily damaged and you have the technology it brings long term returns to have it replaced. RGB illumination of the mouth available as an optional addition. 

Reinforced rib cage: The harshness of Etheria combined with the necessity of being able to access the chest cavity eventually required a redesign of Hordak’s rib cage to allow easier access while increasing general hardiness. 

Enhanced Digestive Systems: While there is food on Etheria perfectly edible to Hordak the ability to forego eating for extended periods aids greatly in survival. This system breaks apart and re-combines waste molecules to be recycled as usable material for the body through the magic of radiation and precise application of electrons. It does not replace eating, but it lets you go longer without!

Enhanced Toxin Filtering: When the liver and kidney equivalents of Hordak’s species inevitably break down from the strain of consuming alien food for decades it is time for replacements. These are essentially straight replacements of key organs that make up part of the bodies waste processing system.

Enhanced Power Systems: More robust changes require more robust power solutions. A larger battery stack combined with a small Radio-thermal Generator that pulls double duty with the digestive enhancements goes far to solve this problem. 

[fangzeronos]

New Year Observations

As the new year and new decade get started, I spent the day reflecting on the last ten years. I’ve seen friends get married, have their families, friends break up and get with someone else. I’ve had most of my family pass away and my friends pass away too. I’ve fallen out of contact with a lot of people, recently reconnecting with several of them. I’ve watched the country go from great to bad. I watched fandoms destroy themselves, toxicity running through them like a virus. I’ve seen franchises rise and fall, and companies go from giving a shit to only wanting our money to line their pockets.

 But looking back through the last ten years, I realize just how little I have accomplished or succeeded in.

 I used to work for my county’s 911 center as a dispatcher in 2011. I loved that job. I was forced out of it by the coordinator who seemed to think I was “spilling trade secrets” to my father who helped set the place up the year before. I sent fire and ambulance crews to scenes. I was responsible for one my friend’s deaths because I couldn’t get the helicopter launched quick enough to get to him. I still can’t look his wife in the eye even all these years later. That guilt still eats me up.

 I’ve got a semi-successful writing talent. AO3 and Fanfiction.net being where I post most of my stuff. I’ve completed a few multi-chapter epics, a lot of one-shots, some I even scrapped entirely or have been dragging my feet for months, all ranging from Teens to Explicit. My twitter (@FangZeronos) is just me rambling about television and movies and occasionally talking with a famous person.

 I started realizing through all my introspection, though, that my biggest problem feels like my life is unfulfilled. I know I couldn’t have gotten through the last ten years without my wonderful girlfriend beside me. She’s kept me grounded through everything. Part of my problem is I see how successful my friends are, see where they’re at, like teaching or a pharmacist or a drag racer or engineers or in the military, and I realize I never moved on or out of this little town. And I know why I didn’t, and I hate using this as my excuse, but it’s true.

 It was because of my mother. My mom had Multiple Sclerosis, and it got bad. It was to the point where they stopped counting the lesions on her brain and spine because there were so many. It was bad enough that by the time my sister was graduating high school, my mother was wheelchair bound. When I graduated in 2009, I had a chance to go to school full ride, no student loans, no nothing. MY uncle was going to pay for it, but I declined because I knew someone had to be here for my mother because Dad worked all the time and my sister was still in school and active in her church. I took care of my mom for 5 years. I did everything. Medication, going with her to appointments, getting her in and out of bed, helping her eat when she couldn’t steady her own hands.

 Then…September 2013, she developed an inoperable brain tumor. Glioblastoma primary multiform is what it was called. It was pushing down on her motor cortex, and if they tried to operate, it could have killed her quicker. She went through the radiation and chemotherapy, but it didn’t work. It got to the point that between the MS and the tumor, we couldn’t take care of her at home anymore, so we were forced to put her into a nursing home. I sat with her when Dad was doing the paperwork in the main office and trying to get her settled when she started screaming at me that I hated her, that I was a disappointment, I should have been aborted, etc. Same thing I’d heard for years at that point. The week before Saint Patrick’s Day 2014, she’d had a minor stroke that severed the brainstem from the spinal column. She was essentially a vegetable, feeding tube and breathing tube to keep her alive. Dad and I visited her in the hospital on March 13th, and I couldn’t bear to go back.

 He and my sister were there on the 14th, and they decided to leave since there wasn’t anything to do other then listen to the steady “beep beep beep” of the monitors. My sister looked back and said “Dad, is she supposed to be that color?” My dad worked ambulances for 30 years, so he felt her pulse, feeling the last beat of her heart. He said she smiled, like she was finally at peace. They got home, told me what happened.

 I’ll admit, I was a little callous. I honest to God said, “Good. Now we can get on with our lives and stop wasting our time with someone that didn’t want to do anything but bitch about how her care was being done.” There were more then a few fists thrown in the following days. We had a memorial for her in the middle of April, hardly anyone showed up.

 After that, I could have gotten a job, done something with my life, but…I didn’t. I stayed home, took care of the house, did the laundry, the dishes, took care of the cats, kept the house up. I still do all of that. But the fact is that I’m 28 years old and I have fuck all to show for it. A house full of video games, Lego, Funko Pop Vinyls, and plastic toys from Japan. That’s all I have to show for ten years out of high school. Everything in this town is either fast food or grocery stores or Walmart, and I’ve applied at several of them over the last few years. When I check on the applications, they say “We already hired someone. Thanks for your application.” But then still keep the “NOW HIRING” signs out all of the place.

 I do think there’s something wrong with me. I go to bed way too late, I’m up way too early. I eat way too many sweet things, don’t exercise, don’t diet. Some mornings I wake up and honestly say, “Oh, I’m still here. Damn.” It always happens between the start of September and the end of February. Today was one of those days. I went to bed at 2, was up at 7:30, had that thought. I struggle with that on a regular basis, but I don’t tell anyone. Dad’ll say I’m doing it for attention. I don’t know what my sister would say. I keep it bottled up because I don’t like asking for help or look for the attention.

 I think I’ve gone on long enough. This is about five hundred words more then I wanted…Happy new year, everyone.

 Daniel

[abarbaricyalp]

tin epithymía tis kardiás

(Day three: Bonfire // Read part one and two))

They passed the days like that, lazy and soft in the sun. Ronan had begun to panic about the time passing, but Adam was quick to assure him that days were faster in Atlantis. It wasn’t so much that Atlantis based time around the sun and Earth’s rotations. The ocean was its own world and the fickle light sources that Ronan could never find were fueled by the sun, but were not the sun. Even with shorter nights, Ronan felt more rested than he had in over a decade.

Adam always had some place to show Ronan, leading him around, marked hand in marked hand. He tried to show Ronan places outside, always very aware of the way Ronan’s mood lifted when he was surrounded by grass and trees and light. All of Ronan’s sharp edges were illuminated when he tilted his face to the warmth, or curled his fingers in long strands of grass, but in those moments, Adam always forgot how sharp he was anyway.

Seven Atlantean days passed before Adam took Ronan to his most cherished public space. It took almost too long to climb all the stairs to the ornately carved stone building. Friezes in the recognizable black and gold decorated the top two feet of all the three floors. Frescos dripped down the walls like after thoughts and half statues seemed to pull themselves from the columns holding each roof up.

Ronan stared with wide eyes. He’d seen hundreds of libraries, some of the best in the world, and some of the oldest, but he’d never seen anything like this. Adam grinned widely up at him.

“We do not have many volumes not in Atlantean. Only a few thousand across Greek, Latin, Egyptian and other African languages, and Thracian. I think you will find some of our Latin inspiring though.”

“How did books survive the flooding?” Ronan asked, letting Adam lead him into the open space inside. The large, circular room opened into six different rooms that stretched so far back, the spaces went dark before Ronan saw the back shelves.

“Some gods were merciful to us. Things were saved sparingly. Our library before the flood would have broken your mind. Humans just cannot fathom such expanse.” Adam only sounded a little bit smug about it. The longer he spent with Ronan and Gansey, occasionally, the more he came to realize humans were not quite so different from Atlanteans. Stunted and odd, but not worlds away as he once imagined.

Adam rubbed his hand over Ronan’s lower arm and let him drink in the sights. Adam had noticed around Gansey that Ronan was bitter and short, cutting his joy off from his voice and face. But, alone, Adam got to see him light up with the promise of adventure and knowledge. Adam had asked Ronan why this was once, and after the light scoffing and eye rolling, Ronan had said Gansey just never asked the right questions, or seeked the right answers for Ronan’s taste.

“You,” he’d said, rough fingers brushing over the scarred markings on Adam’s face, near his temple, “are always leading me just where I want to be.” Then he’d smiled and brushed his thumb over Adam’s nose until Adam giggled and had to fight down the urge to sneeze.

So, yes, Adam let Ronan look and breathe in the beauty that he longed for. But, eventually, he had to pull Ronan away. “This is our foreign room. Not many use it. I’m one of a handful in Atlantis that can speak a language other than Atlantean.”

“What about Blue?” Ronan asked with a small smirk. As the days wore on and Adam and Ronan grew closer, it was obvious Gansey and Blue were also forging a vaguely steady repertoire with each other. Ronan’s jealousy bloomed even when he couldn’t recognize it. Sometimes it was a little tiresome to indulge in his need to prove himself better, but they were both in a good mood and Adam could detect just a little bit of genuine curiosity in Ronan’s tone.

“She cannot speak another language, but her family communes with the dead and the gods.”

“Bullshit,” Ronan said, admiration plain in his tone. Ronan always believed in the magic of Atlantis. There had never been a thing he’d seen, a place they’d gone, or a story Adam told him that Ronan didn’t instantly believe and devour with a religiosity that would put the priests to shame.

There was something magic about Ronan himself. Blue had told him as much when they’d eaten an evening meal with her family.

“Domitus,” she’d said, pulling him aside into a room he knew only briefly during an attempted relationship that had gone nowhere quickly. “The man you’ve brought...there is something otherworldly about him. Not just Earth. Something beyond Earth.”

Adam had frowned at her, rubbing at one of the sigil markings on his arm. “Humans don’t have the magic of Atlantis. And no other civilization had had magic,” he’d pointed out.

“I felt it, Domitus. The air cackles around him with energy. He’s more beyond Earth than some of the elders here.”

“What kind of energy?” Adam had asked. He knew Ronan was a multi-faceted puzzle, something he’d only seen a few pieces of, but he didn’t want to lose him to magic, like he’d lost so much else to it.

“There is a spirit attached to him. Something trying to speak to him. Old and strong. But there’s something else. Something in him. He brought something else with him.”

Adam had shook his head. “You just want him to leave. You want to take him from me. Is it not bad enough that your soldiers follow us wherever we go?”

“He is the true desire of your heart, Domitus, I know that. We can see that. But your heart is not the only one in this city.” Blue had looked at him with outright pity and Adam had left the room before she could say anything else.

There was something special about Ronan. Watching him run his long fingers over dusty spines in languages that Adam couldn’t begin to decipher proved that. But there wasn’t an evil energy about him. Nothing that would endanger the world Adam loved. Ronan loved it too. Adam knew his heart yearned for the one he’d come from, but Ronan didn’t treat Atlantis like something to be studied scientifically, like his companion did.

Adam knew Ronan’s judgement was clouded. He radiated the need to be loved like he radiated energy to Blue. The scream that had ripped from his chest in the cave all those days ago still haunted Adam. He could see all of the fight and feral-ness of Ronan’s human side when his companion suggested they find a way to ‘radio’ back to a ship they had come from. He’d seen anger like when Ronan had first raised his hand to Adam in the cave when Gansey said they should return to the surface, to Earth. It was a specific kind of anger. Not the base anger that cloaked the soldiers who followed them at a distance and pretended not to. It was was an anger bred of fear and hurt.

Adam had known hurt for much of his life. Physical pain at the hands of his father and mother. Emotional pain by his own mind as he struggled to do all he accomplished. And the empty ache in his chest that had overtaken him every time he looked at his wrist.

“You used these books when you were learning Latin?” Ronan asked suddenly. Adam watched the dust stirred up by his breath swirl in front of his face for a moment.

“Yes. There are few others in the whole empire who speak Latin. When I was trying to learn what was on my wrist, I had to come here. I read every book until I saw characters and words I recognized.”

Ronan made a sound and carried a stack of books over to a long table in the middle of the room. Adam sat cross legged on the table to watch him flick through pages.

“No wonder your grammar is so bad. These barely even added spaces between most of the words.”

Adam didn’t know what that meant, but he watched Ronan’s fingers brush over the letterings. Ink flaked off under his skin occasionally, but it didn’t really stop him for long.

“Do many people still speak Latin?” Adam asked. Gansey’s Latin was not the best, but Adam’s Greek was hardly passable and that was a major language.

Ronan snorted and shook his head. “Probably about as many people on Earth speak it well, as people here do.”

“Then why do you?” Adam asked. Ronan just held his wrist out, the Latin almost glowing against his skin. Adam let out a small laugh. “We learned the language for the same reason then. And had we not, neither of us would have Latin on our skins and we wouldn’t have needed to learn it in the first place.”

Ronan looked up with a smile on his face that made him look years younger. A beard had sprouted over the lower half of his face that added years to him anyway. Gansey had had no such problems, so Adam wasn’t sure what to make of it. If it was a magic thing or a Ronan thing or a human thing.

“What languages are dominant now?” Adam asked instead. If he asked about the beard, he would want to reach out to touch it, feel the odd coarseness of human hair that Atlantean hair lacked.

“English. It’s what Gansey and I speak when we’re alone,” Ronan explained. “Um, Chinese. It’s a type of… China is beyond Thrace was. To the very east. Spanish is popular. Spain is a country to the west of Greece and Thrace and Egypt. It’s on the other side of the Mediterranean ocean. But Spanish is not quite only from Spain. It has a lot of forms.”

“Greek did too. Sparta and Athens spoke different dialects and the northern plains were so removed that they almost invented a new language, like we did here.”

Ronan looked up suddenly and Adam thrilled to see a curious but studious gleam in his eye. “Do the words Linear A and B mean anything to you.”

Adam shook his head, but didn’t let himself feel bad. Ronan always had a reason that whatever he asked about wouldn’t make since to Adam.

“I figured it wouldn’t. It’s what modern researchers named it.” Ronan switched books and continued reading.

“What is Linear A and B?” Adam asked so he would look up again.

“It’s these two tablets that were found in an excavation of sites in Greece. It’s some of the oldest writing we have. We can decipher B, but not  A. Which makes people wonder if they’re different languages or dialects, or even if language was common at that point, or just personal.”

Adam nodded. “Atlantean was dialectal for a long time. Even after they went under the water. Thracian peoples and African peoples and Greek peoples all had their language dominant their culture. We find volumes still that no one can read anymore because it is too Thracian, et cetera.”

Ronan looked like he was about to say something else when a guard burst into the room. “Domitus.” He gave a slight bow to Adam, more of a nod and gesture. “Human.” This he almost spat. “Your presence is requested in the palace immediately.”

Ronan and Adam exchanged looks, but before they could move to each other, the soldier was pulling Ronan away, marching him out of the room. Adam struggled to keep up, despite knowing the way better than the soldier.

Gansey and Blue were both in the palace when they arrived. Blue looked furious and Gansey was fidgety in a way Adam hadn’t been able to catalogue yet. He realized with a start that Gansey’s hands were bound in front of him. Adam quickly moved to Ronan’s side, grabbing his wrist to keep anyone from hurting him. Blue had traded the flowing robes she’d been wearing the past few days for full battle gear again.

“What is going on?” he asked in Atlantean. He had to. He’d translate for Ronan when he had an answer.

“The desire of your heart lead more here. They fear an invasion,” Blue answered, keeping an icy look on Gansey.

The soldier who’d brought Ronan and Adam in made a noise behind them. “We shouldn’t be telling him anything. He probably conspired with them. He probably brought them here in the first place.”

Blue cut a look at the soldier. “Speak when spoken to,” she barked out. Still, she cut to the lingo that the soldiers used and Adam didn’t understand. He leaned towards Ronan’s ear instead.

“They think there’s another human.”

He could feel Ronan tense under his hand and from the way Gansey jolted, they were staring each other down. Finally, he asked something in English that stopped Blue and the soldier’s conversation. Adam wished he knew what any of them were saying.

“Domitus, do your sigils tell you of any danger?” Blue asked. Adam looked at her sharply. “You are a priest, deny it as you will. Are the gods telling you something?”

Adam shook his head slowly eventually. “Just the energy of the festival this evening,” he said slowly.

Gansey perked up and in terrible Atlantean, he repeated, “Festival?” He said something to Ronan in English that Adam assumed was a translation.

“Henry would bring a party,” Ronan growled in Latin. Just for Adam. Adam squeezed his wrist again.

“It’s a celebration of light. The gods do not have to bless us with light this far down but they do. We thank them every year by creating the largest fire we can in one of the fields. We sacrifice animals and plants and they send us new kinds and renew our light sources,” Adam explained back.

“What are they doing to Henry?” Ronan asked.

“Did you lead him here?” Adam asked instead of answering.

A muscle worked in Ronan’s jaw and his eyes were fixed in a glare on Gansey. “We both did. There were trackers in the suits we wore. He followed our path right…”

“To the medical unit. The heart of the palace,” Adam finished for him. It made his blood run cold, to think of the danger that Ronan had brought to the city. Humans knew how to get here. Until the next shift in the rocks, Atlantis wasn’t safe. And it was Ronan’s fault.

But Blue was right. Half the pain of his childhood was being a mouthpiece of the gods. The fire the sigils would burn into his skin when they wanted him to know something, the aching they left behind, and the cold that Adam couldn’t describe when they were completely silent tormented him more days than not. But he’d spoken true. The sigils were only humming in excitement for the festival. He could almost, almost, hear the singing of the lesser gods, who were closer to Adam’s Atlantean divinity.

“It’s safe, Blue. Let them see each other,” Adam assured again. His back was to the door, but the way Gansey visibly relaxed was a sure sign that Henry was in his line of sight and okay. Ronan looked over his shoulder and rolled his eyes.

He rattled off something in English, biting and mean, but a little fond. Henry replied with as strong a tone as he could manage despite the wobble in his voice. Gansey said something and was suddenly across the room, a soldier striding after him. Despite his bound wrists, Gansey leaned into Henry and Henry’s arms came up to hold him tightly. It was so raw that Adam looked away. He studied his thumb as it brushed over Ronan’s mark, Adam’s own words in his messy scrawl.

Suddenly, in Latin, Henry was asking, “Is this him? The soul mate?” When Adam turned, Henry was studying him, a kind of mirth on his face that Adam wondered could be removed. He must have been terrified, but he was working up to a full grin the longer he stared at Adam’s hand on Ronan’s wrist.

“That’s him,” Gansey agreed with his own gentle smile. “They’re terrible to spend time with together.”

Adam could feel Ronan’s scowl without looking up at him.

“Keep the humans together. Find the trackers. Destroy them,” Blue ordered, cutting off the conversation.

Adam faltered. “Wait. No. Don’t take him. Let me… You said so yourself. He’s magic. Look at him. He’s light. Let me take him to the festival. Don’t say you don’t want the other one with you.”

Blue turned that hard gaze on him, but Adam had been scrutinized by her enough times to stand his ground. “Please,” he added softly. “He is the desire of my heart. I cannot leave him now that I know where my missing heart beats are.”

Blue sneered and then waved a hand. “You are already under surveillance. I’ll double the soldiers tailing you. And you will make yourself seen at least four times an hour. Do not run, Domitus. He is not worth it.”

Adam thought Ronan was worth a lot of things. But he remained silent.

*  *  *

Ronan was actually very helpful once Adam let him know what bargain he’d struck. Lithe though he was, he was strong too. Not as strong as an Atlantean, but he could carry wood across the fields and chop more when men wanted a break. Through it all, he kept an eye on Adam always. Adam swore he felt the sigils warm when Ronan was looking at him.

By the time it was dark, the fire was lit and large, stretching so far into the sky that Adam couldn’t see where the flame flickered out, only where darkness bled in on the sides.

“Do you have fire on Earth still?” Adam asked. They were sitting together, alone for the first time since Henry arrived. In the grass, their fingers tangled together and they kept leaning into each other for no real reason.

“We still have fire, yeah,” Ronan laughed, looking at Adam with a grin. In the firelight, he looked young again, softer than he should with the flickering shadows playing tricks over his face.

“Fires like this?” Adam asked.

Ronan nodded and straightened up again. His muscles tensed and relaxed just as quickly. Some kind of reflex tamped down. “We call them bonfires. Usually we’re not sacrificing food, we’re eating it.”

“Is that all you do at bonfires?” Adam asked.

Ronan laughed again and shook his head. “We dance like that,” he said, gesturing to the wild and carefree and happy Atlanteans by the base of the fire.

“Sacrificial celebration?” Adam asked.

“No. It’s just a way to be close and happy with someone,” Ronan explained.

“How does it help you be close?” Adam asked.

Ronan leveled a cool look on him and Adam felt his heart kick up into his chest. “Let me show you,” he said, standing up and offering a hand down to Adam. He hauled him up and then pulled him close. “Okay, you’ll put your arms around my neck like this,” he said, moving Adam’s arms. In the fire, the sigils glowed and they were warm in his skin.

“And I’ll hold you around the waist like this. Now we just move to the music,” Ronan said, shifting his weight back and forth.

“But we dance to the words. You don’t know the words of these lyrics,” Adam pointed out.

“Well, on Earth we actually dance to the rhythm. Or, you’re supposed to. Most dance music doesn’t even have words.”

Adam must have looked appalled because Ronan laughed, head thrown back. “Don’t look like I just killed your cat. A lot of still does. But you’re supposed to feel the music, move to it.”

He kept his hips and torso shifting until Adam was moving with him. And, yes, he completely understood why this would make people feel close to each other. Ronan let his forehead rest against Adam’s and they swayed back and forth in the grass by themselves. Adam thought this celebration was suddenly not about the gods and light, but about Ronan and love.

[doshmanziari]

Putting Names to Built Things: Naming the Architecture and Ornament of Dark Souls and Bloodborne [Part 5]

Above: the reredos in the twin Dragonriders’ chamber, from Dark Souls 2′s Drangleic Castle.

Our point of focus is the entablature, that moulded rectangular chunk atop the pilasters. Point of clarification: usually, a reredos -- which is what this whole sculptural assemblage, surrounding a small polygonal altar below, is -- has a statue or variety of statues placed within its recess(es), but there is no figurative ornamentation here. It’s very likely that the stylized rays of sun above on the wall were inspired by Bernini’s Chair of St. Peter.

1. There actually are more components to an entablature (and it’s not really worth learning their names, even if it is delightful to see how specific terminological assignments can get); I’ve just reduced it to the three main portions containing sub-portions. Up at the top is the cornice, whose name is probably the easiest to remember; as this series has demonstrated, “cornice” can designate the tops of different structures.

2. In the middle, sometimes going undecorated, is the frieze.

3. And on the bottom, beginning where the entablature starts to be horizontally divided by mouldings again, is the architrave. Unusually, these mouldings move outward; typically they’ll regress such that the columns’ or pilasters’ capitals/abaci reach further out than the architrave’s bottom.

4. The geometric modeling here isn’t true to what this detail is in actual architecture, but those bands you see lined with small vertical grooves are supposed to be dentils. Dentils are small square blocks often underlining cornices, and are a favorite detail of mine. As you may have already guessed, the word is Latin-derived and suggestive of teeth.

Above: an elevator shaft from Dark Souls 2′s Drangleic Castle.

We’ve already touched on what fluting is in a prior entry. This shaft exhibits spiral fluting. Fairly obvious why: the fluting curves diagonally around the surface.

Above: the entrance to Lothric Castle’s keep, from Dark Souls 3, and a portal within a chalice dungeon, from Bloodborne.

1. You’ll often see this feature on Gothic Cathedrals main and peripheral portals, just as elaborately carved and situated between the top of a doorway and the arch above it, and it’s what’s known as a tympanum.

2. These continuous bands and mouldings, following the contours of the arch’s face (in the first example, pointed; in the second, rounded), are the archivolt.

3. We’re looking at the arched motif climbing up the pediment’s angled sides -- and you know what? I’m not aware of a term for this. You could maybe call it relieved inverted crenellation (”inverted” because the projections between the crenels/gaps aren’t thrusting upward). Seems too wordy, though. Just thought I’d bring it up to show that I still have lots of gaps in my knowledge.

Above: an exterior portion of Old Yharnam’s lower stretch, and a rural interior around the Forbidden Woods, from Bloodborne.

1. Old Yharnam has a different architectural character than that of the city’s upper strata -- it’s rougher, and also, in real-world terms, slightly more Germanic than English or French. Here’s one example: the shaped gable on this building, “shaped” because it has multi-curved sides.

2. When columns or pilasters are used one above the other, they are superimposed. Although this term is ordinarily used in reference to the orders on arcaded or colonnaded buildings, such as the colosseum (which proceeds, starting from the bottom row, from Doric to Ionic to Corinthian), it can also have a general use, as seen here. One similar thing on top of the other.

3. One of those details that gives Old Yharnam its... well, old appearance. Each long vertical piece of wood is a post, while the projections at each post’s top are braces. It’s curious that these are placed on the building’s exterior sides, because they’re really for trussing a building’s skeleton. You can see many more examples of this building method in the Forbidden Woods’ sites and, relatedly, a number of old real-world barns, such as Grange barn.

Above: an elevator tower in the High Wall of Lothric, and a barrack wall near Lothric Castle’s perimeter, from Dark Souls 3.

Our modern meaning of the word has changed, but these windows are known as loopholes. Their design allowed archers to fire at opposing enemies with minimal exposure to themselves. Loopholes also figure prominently in the initial fortification of the Boletarian Palace from Demon’s Souls.

Above: a window in Drangleic Castle and a storage room in the Huntsman’s Copse, from Dark Souls 2.

You won’t see this kind of arch too often in these games. It’s called a corbel arch, and is a very old method of construction that’s done by building each course of brick or stones out beyond the one below until they meet and form the arch’s head. Drangleic Castle’s corbel arches have a finer appearance thanks to the moulding following the courses’ sides.

Above: the vestibule of a church in Bloodborne’s Cathedral District.

The good thing about a fan vault is that you really only need to see one or two examples before you can identify one in all other cases. Moreover, its name is self-descriptive, referring to how the vault’s ribs extend equidistantly from the piers, giving the ceiling surfaces a radiating, or fan-like, appearance. It has the look of a highly ornate rib vault, and is perhaps most well known through the vaults of the Henry VII Chapel and King’s College Chapel.

[sapphicwordweaver-blog]

Russian Superstition

All of the below are sourced from (here). Cut for length.

SUPERSTITIONS IN RUSSIA

Russians are considered very superstitious. Their lives are filled with superstition which most non-Russian are unfamiliar with. Soothsaying on New Years’s has traditionally been important. Most Russians claim they are not superstitious; they are only recognizing superstition as a way of hedging their bets by not tempting fate. [Source: Carol Williams, Los Angeles Times, Yelena Minnok Encyclopedia of Superstitions in Russia]

There has traditionally been a strong interest in parapsychology, some of which is regarded as “scientific,” in Russia. There are numerous folk stories involving vampires and witches. In 2001, Putin signed a bill outlawing “electromagnetic, infrasound...radiators” and others weapons of “psychotronic influence.”

Superstition experienced a rebirth after the collapse of Communism. Olga Miserva, a parapsychologist at Moscow's Open Spiritual Center, told the Los Angeles Times. "Reliance on superstition shows up the inadequacy of our internal knowledge and self-confidence problems that have been intensified by the insecurity inflicted on people by the complete change of the world hey know...There are a lot of problems and a lot of reason for people to be fearful. People want to fill these voids with a little something they can believe in. They look to the stars for guidance and put their faith in these old superstitions to feel they have control over the future."

Common Russian Superstitions

The Russian equivalent of knocking on wood is spitting over one's shoulder three times after making a careless remark about possible danger or presumed good. The superstition is based on the belief that the devil lives on one's left shoulder and an angel loves on the right shoulder, and spitting on the devil is a way of preventing him from causing mischief. Pretending to spit three times over one’s shoulder and then knocking on wood is a superstition for good health.

Many Russian superstitions trace their origins back to pre-Orthodox pagan times. To ward off evil spirits one must touch the floor with the right foot first after waking up in the morning. If a person accidently puts on their shirt inside out he or she must place it on the floor and step on it before putting it on the correct way.

Other common Russian superstitions: 1) A dropped butter knife means that a member of the opposite sex will visit. 2) If you want to have a son wear a hat during the moment of conception. 3) If you have a bad dream and you don't want it come true you must retell the dream in the morning while running water from a faucet so the dream goes down the drain. 4) Before embarking on a journey, one must "sit for the road," or sit silent on one's luggage or bed before leaving.

Domovoi and Shaking Hands at Thresholds

A common Russian superstition is that one must never shake hands, kiss, sleep or sit near a threshold such as a door. Thresholds are where brownie-like creatures known as domovoi dwell and kissing or shaking hands is regarded as an offensive invasion of their space.

Non-Russians visiting the home of Russian friends often violate this superstition by greeting their hosts with handshakes or embrace at the doorway. Some Russian believe that the misfortunes on the MIR space station began after arriving American astronauts shook hands with Russian cosmonauts when they entered the station.

Domovoi are believed to follow the head of the household when a family moves. There are elaborate rituals to attract domovoiwhen a new household is established after marriage. A newlywed groom, for example, does not carry his bride over the threshold, but rather lets loose a cat call which is supposed to summon a domovoi. Cats are the only creatures that can communicate withdomovoi.

Mirror Superstitions in Russia

In order not to obstruct the journey of departed spirits to the afterlife, Russians believe, one must not obstruct the view of a mirror. Broken mirrors are considered an omen of misfortune for a friend and looking at your own reflection in a broken mirrors is regarded as very dangerous.

People are not supposed to eat in front of mirrors or look at an image of a candle reflected in a mirror. Many superstitions involve mirrors because they are regarded as the threshold between the world we know and the world of spirits.

One of Russia's most widely held superstitions is when someone returns home to pick up something left behind he or she must look in a mirror before leaving again. Some people say that you have to stick out your tongue or make an ugly face when looking in the mirror. The idea behind this belief is that when a person leaves the house the first they accompanied by a guardian angel. If they return from outside the guardian angel is left behind and is recalled with a look in the mirror.

Bad Luck and the Evil Eye in Russia

Whistling indoors, yellow flowers, red hair are all considered bad luck. If you whistle indoors, all your money will fly out the window. Yellow is associated with sadness. Redheads are regarded with suspicion because there are so few of them.

Returning a borrowed item after sunset or mending a hem or button while wearing a damaged garment, spilling salt on a table are also considered bad luck. If you spill salt you must throw it over your left shoulder.

One should never celebrate a holiday, birthday, anniversary or other happy event in advance. Don't look at a baby if you have black eyes. Don't light a cigarette from a candle. The number 13 it is not an unlucky number in Russia. An even number of roses or any other flower is considered appropriate only at a funeral.

Evil eye superstitions are very much alive in Russia. The Cossacks have traditionally worn black fur hats with a red and black "god's eye" to ward off bullets. Many Russians believe that that some people have the power to cast the "evil eye". A babka, an old woman faith healer, told the New York Times, she can recognize the "evil eye" but she never uses it. "I cast only good spells," she said. "I never use the evil eye." To "disinfect" oneself from a curse cast by the evil eye pass a candle three times in front of an icon.

Supernatural Beliefs in Russia

The collapse of Communism brought about a resurgence in astrology, ESP and fortunetelling. Respected newspapers contain advertisements offering the services of witches, warlocks and clairvoyants. Doctors regularly advise their patients to see faith healers. Lilia Voroneheza, a popular psychic and faith healer, told the Los Angeles Times in the 1990s she was so busy she had to turn away customers. Another psychic, Anatoly Kashpirovsky, was elected to Parliament in 1993.

The Third Eye, a television show about the supernatural, was one of the most popular shows in Russia. A government report issued in 2001 said that Russian scientists were trying to create “effective methods to influence of humans at a distance.” The KGB investigated paranormal occurrences.

A Russian woman named Rosa Kulehova demonstrated her ability of eyeless sight at the Moscow Academy of Science. After being blindfolded she read material placed in front of her using the third and forth finger on her right hand.

Astrology in Russia

Astrology has became quite popular in Russia since the fall of Communism. Astrology columns are a fixture in almost every magazine and newspaper. Callers can receive personalized astrology accounts using their phones. The Kremlin used to have a staff of astrologers, whose job was to advise the late Present Boris Yeltsin.

Russian horoscopes tend to be gloomier than their American counterparts. Negative days usually outnumber "fortunate" days by a two to one margin (the ratio is reversed in most American horoscopes). The alignments of planets are viewed as inauspicious days in which it better to stay home and not make decisions. In the U.S. these days are viewed as obstacles that can be overcome.

By Western standards, Russian astrology reports are very blunt. One report in the Kommersant newspaper read: "Today is a largely dangerous day. You may end up broke...This day is entirely unsuitable for an undertaking of any sort...The risks of accidents is high. You shouldn't expect anything good from your family life today...It's better not to gamble on a day like this, whole fortunes are lost." The following day the paper reported: "Fraud, cheating and crooked deals are only a small fraction of the troubles that threaten to disrupt all your plans today." [Source: Washington Post]

Typical Russian horoscope entries read, "don't get frantic when you find all your life savings are gone," "your deliveries will not arrive on time, or will never arrive," foreigners will cause you a lot of trouble today," "on Tuesday the shady deals that you made earlier become known to the broad public," and "You should intensify the guard on your apartment; representatives of criminal structures are not dozing." [Ibid]

Russian Fortunetellers and Mystics

Russia has a long history with mystics and fortunetellers. Brezhnev consulted a Bulgarian clairvoyant. Yeltsin hired a special consultant to protect him from “external pyschophysical influence.” See Rasputin Under History.

By one estimate there are over 100,000 fee-charging mystics in Russia and the services they offer is a multi-million -dollar business. They advertise on television and in newspapers. Many fortunetellers in Russian are Abkhazians from the Caucasus and Roma (Gypsies). Abkhazian women read coffee grounds; Roma often use cards. On Roma fortune teller told the Washington Post,"All sorts come here for advise—doctors, procurators, Mafia—it's a good business."

The chess player Garry Kasparov credited the Azerbaijani psychic Tofik Dadashev with helping him won his first world championship in 1985 against Anatoly Karpov, who employed a psychologist trained in hypnotism. Dadashev told the Los Angeles Times, “What I was doing there was not hypnosis in the scientific sense of the word.” He said he “created the positive energetic background which would make it easier for him and more difficult for opponent to play.”

The use of mystics and fortunetellers soared after the collapse of the Soviet Union. Russian sociologists said that among the reasons for this were tough economic times and pent up interest in the supernatural after years of Soviet rule. “Many people now live on the verge of despair, given their economic situation, which humiliates and destroy their families,” one Russian sociologist told the Los Angeles Times. “They are attracted to psychics, to magicians to witches...out of fragility and desperation.”

Russian Wise Women and Witches

Faith healing, paganism and witchcraft were not stamped by the Communists. Since the break up of the Soviet Union they have experienced a rebirth. One Belarusian anthropologist told Newsweek, "The Communists were strongly atheistic, but they could not destroy people's belief in miracles.”

Almost every village has some kind of witch or warlock. Many people, when given the choice, say they would rather go to a faith healer than a doctor. Cures for cancer offered by witch doctors include drinking kerosene, spitting at the moon and peeing through a wedding ring into a saucepans.

Vedma ("wise women")—usually matronly babushkas in their 60s—in small villages in Russia, Belarus and the Ukraine treat childhood diseases by writing magic words on water and attempt to cure cows by whispering secret spells in the wind. For payment they accept chicken, eggs and homemade vodka.

"Ivan Kupla" is a pagan festival tolerated by the Orthodox Church in which revelers celebrate the beginning of spring by bathing naked together in running water and jumping over greenwood fires with crowns of birch twigs. Some parish priests keep busy doing exorcisms on people reportedly victimized by witchcraft. These exorcisms often feature a lot of moaning, screaming and shuddering from crucifixes.

Urban Witches

The belief in witchcraft in Russia is said to be stronger in the cities than in rural areas because, one Orthodox priest told the New York Times, "in villages the old attitudes toward the church are still alive and the immunity against evil is better preserved.”

In the cities witches work as fortunetellers. Most of their business comes from women who have bad luck and want to have a curse removed and men who want to seduce women. One customer who sought a witch in Moscow told the Time of London her boyfriend had left her because a neighbor had sprinkled pine needles across the threshold of her family house when her mother was pregnant. “We told the witch about it and she lifted the curse,” the woman explained.

In the early 2000s, Larisa Teterina operated the upscale “External Help Center.” She typically treated six patients a day in an office filled with candles, crystals, and fertility symbols. She charges about $25 for an initial consultation and prices varied depending on the ritual, spell or curse that was sought. A charm that mended a broken marriage cost $300. A spell to make a man more sexy cost $150. Teterina told the Times of London: “Magic can’t be cheap because you’d argue with your spouse all the time and then go to witch to get it fixed.

Teterina said she learned her craft from her grandmother and has a 85 percent success rate. She attributed her high success rate as much to commons sense advice as magic. Still there are those who consider Teterina and others like her to be swindlers and charlatans. Witches have become so common that the Moscow city council proposed legislation to ban “occult services.”

[architectnews]

Ten student architecture projects from the University of Westminster

A project that examines restoring damaged peatlands in Scotland and another that addresses the housing needs of income poor young people in Beijing are included in Dezeen's latest school show by students at the University of Westminster.

It also includes a mycelium product factory where a repurposed prison provides ideal conditions for growing sustainable products and a redesigned climbing wall highlighting the connection between sport and the natural world.

University of Westminster

School: University of Westminster, School of Architecture + Cities Course: Architecture BA (Hons), Architecture and Environmental Design BSc (Hons), Interior Architecture BA (Hons), Architectural Technology BSc (Hons), Designing Cities BA (Hons), Master of Architecture (MArch) (RIBA pt II) Tutors: Constance Lau, Stephen Harty John Zhang, David Porter, Paolo Cascone, Panagiota Adileniduo, Ro Spankie, Diony Kypraiou, Allan Sylvester, Ana Araujo, Tabatha Mills, Adam Thwaites, David Mathewson, Elisa Engel, Kester Rattenbury, Sean Griffiths, Anthony Boulanger, Stuart Piercy, Callum Perry John Cook, Laura Nica and Ben Pollock

School statement:

"The School of Architecture and Cities offers a wide range of undergraduate and postgraduate courses as well as research degrees a few moments from Baker Street. Here, students can enjoy state-of-the-art facilities, including the extensive Fabrication Laboratory and dedicated open-plan design studios.

"Open 2021 is a rolling programme of events being created by the school's staff and students, which reflect the varied design approaches of the School of Architecture and Cities and their place at the heart of London.

"It will feature 750 student projects, drawing on the vast body of developmental and finished work imagined and realised over the course of the last academic year. The show will transform student work into digital assets, creating an extraordinary display of new architecture and a compelling visitor experience. The show opens on 17 June until 30 September."

The Bioengineering Experimental School of Architecture: Designing for the Prevention of Fires by Momchil Petrinski

"In this project, the notion of 'fire' from the laboratory experiments serves multiple purposes, from the 'gallery' for public knowledge, heat distribution to the surrounding buildings and the cultivation of the green spaces.

"The dense urban site of Little Britain and proposed Tower is approached as a Borgesian labyrinth where the ever-green public gardens extend across the horizontal and vertical landscapes, and resting places for the homeless community are embedded within the public realm."

Student: Momchil Petrinski Course: Architecture BA (Hons) Tutors: Constance Lau and Stephen Harty Email: mpetrinski321@gmail.com

Ideal Landscape from Luo Shen Fu Tu by Yunuo Zheng

"The proposal is a spatial narrative telling the ancient Chinese story of the painting Luo Shen Fu Tu created by the famous Eastern Jin painter Gu Kaizhi based on the plot of Cao Chi's work Luo Shen Fu.

"This is not just a love story – it is a story of frustration and anger caused by feudalism when people could only express thoughts and feelings through landscapes and myths. It is these landscapes and myths that give the form to an immersive exhibition situated in London."

Student: Yunuo Zheng Course:  Interior Architecture BA (Hons) Tutors: Ro Spankie, Diony Kypraiou, Allan Sylvester, Ana Araujo Email: rain_zyn@yahoo.com

Intercultural communal living as a catalyst for refugee integration by Anne-Flore Smits

"Nature avoids monocultures and lives in diversity to feed its system. The harmonious living between living forms is known as symbiosis. Through intercultural communal living, symbiosis is regenerated, where the forgotten lives of refugees can integrate back into society.

"With local and foreign amalgamation, the most vulnerable group in society can write their futures. The design of social-communal connectivity incorporates multi-use courtyards, creating a unique spatial arrangement within the male and female quarter and central community compound.

"A common roof with various environmental qualities ensures the proposed and established buildings receive minimal solar radiation, that is experienced in its extreme within Cameroon's Far North capital of Maroua."

Student: Anne-Flore Smits Course: Architecture and Environmental Design BSc (Hons) Tutors: Paolo Cascone and Panagiota Adileniduo Email: w1707968@my.westminster.ac.uk

 Ark for an Ant Tribe by Yuen-Wah Williams

"This project addresses the acute housing needs of well educated but income poor young people who come to Beijing to seek their future – affectionately known as the 'Ant Tribe' in China.

"The project is a co-living mega-block with floating courtyards, rooftop running tracks, and community programmes open to the broader neighbourhood at the ground level. The novel tectonics draws inspiration from traditional low-rises, high-density Hutong courtyards and local experiments in soviet-era social condensers.

"The generous and intensely social outdoor spaces become rooms in themselves, responds to the changing patterns of life in a pandemic."

Student: Yuen-Wah Williams Course: Architecture BA (Hons) Tutors: John Zhang and David Porter Email: yuenwahwilliams@gmail.com

Climb Air Theatre by Zhiqing He

"The conditions of isolation and lack of physical interaction due to the pandemic gave birth to this project with the aim of evoking memories of intimate communication stemming from the past. Inspired by The Phantom of the Opera, London's historic musical production (forced to close during the lockdown),  the proposal suggests an open interactive theatre, situated at St Dustan park in London.

"The audience gets invited to follow actors through the theatre's three main theatre stages and participate in distinct moments of the play while re-connecting them to each other through this musical, theatrical and spatial journey."

Student: Zhiqing He Course: Interior Architecture BA (Hons) Tutors: Ro Spankie, Diony Kypraiou, Allan Sylvester, Ana Araujo Email: 740655783@qq.com

The Arch Climbing Wall by Tom McGinnity

"The Arch Climbing Wall is located in Bermondsey, London. The redeveloped climbing centre uses all the existing building while also developing a new building adjacent to the existing one. The design aims to highlight the connection between climbing and nature.

"New climbing walls were positioned in the existing building to create an environment of valleys and mountains. The new building acts as the final challenge, with climbers able to scale the exterior of the building and the tall structure within. The new building is open-air with large use of open mesh, allowing climbers to connect with nature."

Student: Tom McGinnity Course: Architectural Technology BSc (Hons) Tutors: Tabatha Mills and Adam Thwaites Email: tommcginnity1@gmail.com

Old Kent Road: A New Precedent for Mixing Leisure, Manufacturing and Housing by Daniel Sefton

"By combining industrial, residential, and leisure spaces using innovative changes of level, land-use pressures in the inner city could be significantly alleviated.

"An undulating raised park set against the side of an existing recycling centre creates a pocket of urban rurality. Pavilions break through the park's surface for exhibition and retail space, with micro-manufacturing occurring on the submerged ground floor.

"HGV access to ground floors occurs through a road network beneath the park. The park removes both social and physical barriers that industrial land creates through controlled, increased public proximity to manufacturing and community-connecting active transport routes."

Student: Daniel Sefton Course: Designing Cities BA (Hons) Tutors: David Mathewson and Elisa Engel Email: Dan.sefton07@gmail.com

The Mycology Institute by Gemma Mohajer

"The Mycology Institute re-purposes existing buildings at Wormwood Scrubs Prison. Former cells provide ideal conditions for growing mushrooms, used to make sustainable products. The project extends one of the cell blocks creating a mycelium product factory.

"It forms a route to the scrubs and a public square created by demolishing the prison wall. The building is constructed using sustainable products, including rope elements, developed from chance operations. These are used as part of the roof structure and as a screen that shades the building and takes rainwater off the roof. Columns and floors reuse the 916,000 prison wall bricks."

Student: Gemma Mohajer Course: Master of Architecture (MArch) (RIBA pt II) Tutors: Kester Rattenbury and Sean Griffiths Email: gmohajer@hotmail.co.uk

The Rotherhithe Cooperative Press by Rebecca Gardner

"Newspapers are dying, and with them, an integral part of London's civic life and tacit skillset is at risk of extinction. The Rotherhithe Cooperative Press reinvents newspaper production, turning away from mass media favouring temporal print that focuses on specific events and protests.

"Through exploiting the natural diurnal cycle of the printing industry and the Thames, the scheme acts as a production framework and distribution network for marginalised media outlets at night whilst a community print-work mobilises the community to engage in protest during the day."

Student: Rebecca Gardner Course: Master of Architecture (MArch) (RIBA pt II) Tutors: Anthony Boulanger, Stuart Piercy and Callum Perry Email: r-c-gardner@hotmail.com

Peat Observation: Carbon Cycles through Plant Matter by Seni Agunpopo

"The project looks at preserving and accelerating the restoration of damaged peatlands in Scotland – one of the world's most effective carbon store/sinks.

"This project uses a wider parametric masterplan strategy of landscape probes and responsive blanket systems to alter and control the conditions of soil moisture, temperature and humidity, as well as the deployable modular research units that support the ongoing scheme."

Student: Seni Agunpopo Course: Master of Architecture (MArch) (RIBA pt II) Tutors: John Cook, Laura Nica and Ben Pollock Email: w1731831@my.westminster.ac.uk

Partnership content

This school show is a partnership between Dezeen and the University of Westminster. Find out more about Dezeen partnership content here.

  The post Ten student architecture projects from the University of Westminster appeared first on Dezeen.

[mitsubishifever]

Mitsubishi ASX 6-speed A/T CVT Review

"How much does this ASX cost?" a friend asked. I wasn't sure, so I guesstimated and said between R450 000 and R500 000

And then I checked the price and was astounded to see the Mitsubishi ASX model I'd been driving for a week costs R399 995. A number I was pleasantly surprised to see, because I thought it was more expensive.

What’s been updated?

The Japanese compact SUV on sale since 2011, has received a facelift for 2020. You'll notice a new radiator grille, and lower bumper section. To me, the car looks a lot more handsome than its predecessor; the new face definitely had passers-by taking a second glance at the Mitsubishi. 

There are LED headlights, and daytime driving lights, and the rear also features a myriad of LEDs with the brake lights, taillights, reverse lights, and indicators all in a one-piece cluster.

Our test unit was decked out in one of the new hues: Sterling Silver

Inside, the ASX has a new grain of leather seats; an aspect perhaps lost on most as the cabin is dominated by the massive panoramic glass roof and a new 20cm touchscreen infotainment system with mobile phone mirror link. 

It quickly has Apple CarPlay displayed in seconds after connecting my phone via the USB port. Other niceties include a voice control recognition feature, and keyless entry and ignition.

The interior offers all that one would need, with a tilt and telescopic adjustable steering column and a multi-function leather steering wheel standard fare of course. The plastics used in the cabin are perhaps of slightly less quality in comparison to a Mazda CX-3 for example.

Nevertheless, it's a comfortable place to be with electrically-powered seats, mirrors and windows offering ease of convenience.

What's it like to drive?

The ASX is a city car, it's for carting around family and things in its 406-litre sized boot. Power comes from the same normally-aspirated 2.0-litre petrol engine with variable valve timing producing 110kW and a rather paltry 197Nm.

The benefit of the engine not being turbocharged is that it is quite responsive. The gearbox in use is a CVT unit and it does a satisfactory job albeit with a slight drone now and then when I mashed the throttle.

It's a really comfortable car to move around the city in, offering good ride comfort thanks to its fully-independent suspension.

I found the seats very comfortable and a short drive to Gordon's Bay from the Cape Town CBD proved to be an effortless jaunt with hardly any wind noise creeping into the cabin despite driving at the legal speed limit.

I averaged around 10.5-litres/100km, not too bad for mostly city driving, and a drive to the GB.

In summary, the 4.3-metre long ASX proved to be a consummate compact crossover that's hard to fault, especially at a competitive price of R399 995. Included in the price is a five-year or 90 000km service plan.

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Article from: https://www.wheels24.co.za/

[sciencespies]

We might finally understand how Pluto can have liquid oceans so far from the Sun

https://sciencespies.com/space/we-might-finally-understand-how-pluto-can-have-liquid-oceans-so-far-from-the-sun/

We might finally understand how Pluto can have liquid oceans so far from the Sun

It’s only been in recent years – since the historic flyby of the New Horizons probe in 2015 – that we’ve been able to understand Pluto with any great depth or detail. We’ve learnt a lot about our Solar System’s tiny outlier, but one of the biggest surprises was a number of hints that liquid oceans still slosh beneath Pluto’s icy surface.

At an average distance of 5.9 billion kilometres (3.7 billion miles) from the Sun, in the frigid reaches of the Kuiper Belt, scientists had thought the dwarf planet must have been frozen solid – and exactly how liquid water could exist on such a cold object was a mystery.

Now astronomers have come up with a new scenario, detailed in a new paper – if Pluto formed quickly, the heat generated by this process could have been sufficient to keep subsurface oceans liquid for billions of years.

“For a long time people have thought about the thermal evolution of Pluto and the ability of an ocean to survive to the present day,” said Earth and planetary scientist Francis Nimmo of the University of California Santa Cruz.

“Now that we have images of Pluto’s surface from NASA’s New Horizons mission, we can compare what we see with the predictions of different thermal evolution models.”

Pluto, which formed around 4.5 billion years ago with the rest of the Solar System, could have accreted more slowly, from cold material. Under this model, different mechanisms could account for the liquid subsurface water, such as the decay of radioactive elements in Pluto’s core.

However, while this cold-start model is a plausible way for liquid water to persist in a Kuiper Belt object, it is inconsistent with some of the features discovered on Pluto’s surface through New Horizons observations.

“If it started cold and the ice melted internally, Pluto would have contracted and we should see compression features on its surface, whereas if it started hot it should have expanded as the ocean froze and we should see extension features on the surface,” said Earth and planetary scientist Carver Bierson of UC San Diego, lead author on the paper.

“We see lots of evidence of expansion, but we don’t see any evidence of compression, so the observations are more consistent with Pluto starting with a liquid ocean.”

Extensional faults on Pluto’s surface. (NASA/JHUAPL/SwRI/Alex Parker)

You see, the presence of extension lines alone is not a smoking gun for a hot-start scenario. If Pluto started out hot, the dwarf planet would undergo an early, rapid extension phase for about 1 billion years, followed by a longer, slower extension phase of about 3.5 billion years.

But in a cold-start scenario, the second phase would also be extensional; the difference is that the earlier phase would be compressional. Hence, to figure out which story fits, it’s important to figure out early-phase features – which is what the team has done, identifying a system of ridges and troughs they believe are indicative of an early extensional phase.

“The oldest surface features on Pluto are harder to figure out, but it looks like there was both ancient and modern extension of the surface,” Nimmo said.

The next step was to model how Pluto could have started out hot from the beginning. One source of such heat energy would be the accretion process – material raining down on Pluto to add to its growing bulk. As this material impacts, it imparts gravitational energy, which is then released as heat.

But the timescales on which this occurs makes a big difference.

“How Pluto was put together in the first place matters a lot for its thermal evolution,” Nimmo said. “If it builds up too slowly, the hot material at the surface radiates energy into space, but if it builds up fast enough the heat gets trapped inside.”

Traditional models for Kuiper Belt objects would see this process take hundreds of millions of years to produce an object the size of Pluto, 2,376 kilometres (1,476 miles) in diameter. That’s way too slow; Pluto would be cold before it could even start to cook.

But recent research has suggested a new formation model – a multi-stage process in which a planetesimal grows relatively slowly to about 300 kilometres across, and the final accretion stage occurs rapidly.

Under this scenario, Pluto could form in around 30,000 years – the time the team calculated it would take for the hot-start model. And, the researchers note, their results imply that other large Kuiper Belt objects could have started out hot, and also had early oceans.

It’s only hypothetical at this stage, but there are features that could confirm the team’s ideas.

“One important distinction between the cold start and hot start models is that the former, but not the latter, is likely to retain an undifferentiated, rock-rich carapace in the near-surface … clear evidence of a rock-rich carapace, such as that inferred at Ceres, would rule out a hot start Pluto,” the researchers wrote in their paper.

“Similarly, widespread evidence of compressional features such as wrinkle ridges would be very hard to reconcile with a hot start Pluto. … The main prerequisite for any of these tests is a stratigraphic column for Pluto; now that the basic cratering characteristics have been established, such an enterprise can be attempted.”

The research has been published in Nature Geoscience.

#Space

[heanjiaalloys]

Extensive applications of perforated sheet decorative screens in varied conditions

Decorative metal materials feature a range of properties which include rigidity, strength, lightweight, nominal thickness, specific transparency and decorative appeal. These bring new application effects in construction industry and architecture. At present, these alloys are commonly used in design of facades, and interiors across the world, becoming more popular. The applications of decorative mesh perforated metal include decorative function, shadowing of shadowing of sunlight, sound and noise barrier function and the issue of corrosion when used in outdoors. Utmost perfection may be received by Heanjia, multi-layer design factors and integration with other construction materials to provide better sound absorption, corrosion resistance and functionality.

Among a wide range of applications of perforated metal sheets, architectural applications of decorative screens are prominent. It includes cladding of facades, interior decoration, columns cover, staircase and arrangement of security walls and enclosures. Besides, to decorative aesthetic design, the perforated sheets provide additional benefits to architects and builders which include sunshade, noise reduction, lightweight fencing, energy saving and access control.

Perforated sheets amaze with its diversity and artistic view. They are not only used to decorate buildings of commercial companies and social infrastructure, even also to produce new image of private houses. There are several sceneries of modern trends. Aluminum made perforated metals provide similar shimmering and light changing characteristics. Various shades of gold shimmer from dark to light, metallic, based on the way the sun strikes the building. Unlike architects use perforated stainless steel panels with pattern of specific symbols. These panels offer decorative functionality. and also are practical they are used as shutters, allow to open windows and doors.

Heavily featured porthole type windows on its façade, the idea of circular theme in façade and interior, made several adjustments. The skin of building can be made of two perforated stainless steel layers, which ideally reflect daylight and artificial lighting to create a supreme contrast of hole and surrounding. Top sheet of the façade replicates façade punched, window design, the inner sheet features a regular perforation pattern.

Perforated sheets have also a significant role in maintaining temperature and air ventilation of buildings in addition to a dosed light permeability offering illumination from outside.  Attractiveness of perforated sheets makes them more common for use in architectural applications. They are used as façade material, fencing structure for motorways and sidewalks, benches, garbage cans, and bicycle sheds. There is an increasing potential for use these sheets in building’s facades, windows and constructive elements. They have the properties to resolve several technical issues which include reinforcing brick masonry, junction connecting, floor concrete and others. Perforated sheets are technological and can be used for noise reduction, as the holes in the metal sheet are involved in sound absorbing. Perforated sheets are widely used for shielding electromagnetic fields. A supreme effect of sheets can be achieved when they are used as barrier for solar radiation and wind.

Building’s windows and doors can be well insulated and hence in cold seasons less energy is consumed for heating places. Heanjia supplies high quality decorative mesh screens for use in varied applications at economical price.

[palak87-blog1]

2017: The year of growth.

The year is ending and for some days to come we're going to commit the very common error of making 17 instead of 18 in year columns of our notebooks.

When all the people are talking of how this year changed them, then here is my opinion about the alterations i saw in me, thankfully my graph slopes upward.

I learned that it's okay not to win everytime, and once you accept it, there isn't any game of life that you're losing.

I have found happiness in different things, it is not some car or mobile or money. Thankfully my happiness is wrapped in echoes of my name in the auditoriums of competitions i have been to, my happiness encircles around deep talk, around people, places and also happiness comes wrapped in golden foils too.

It is okay to lose people, one big thing that i learned, while God chooses to send us on Earth our mechanisms are varied and multi functional, but my functions are not the subset of yours and that is Okay.

And when you allow to let go, you gain, from a different direction, this universe radiates. When you let go off toxicity, you allow a lot of warmth your way, i can't talk about how soon it'll come to you, but the coming is certain.

And most importantly i learned the peace of being enough, and feeling enough in your own company. Hearing this from an extrovert is astonishing but maturity is peaceful, not being chatty all the time is okay, it doesn't change you, you're still candid and complete( even if you're alone).

For those of you who can't extract of what good this year gave you, i hope when you look inside yourself you see a better person in yourself, better than anyone you've been before, and also i wish y'all a happy new year and i wish that this year takes you people to your arts, (if unfound) finding something that makes you believe that this is thing you were sent here for, on Earth, will give you power and with power you can alter a lot.

And then, this year i have believed in the supremacy of the eternal power, it does exist, somewhere we can't reach, but there is something that keeps us moving, and to that power I am thankful for this year and magic it gave me.