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sass-and-suspenders · 4 years

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Merlot & Mistletoe

GIF from big-brass-ego-deactivated201812

Pairing: Dr. Frederick Chilton x Reader

Author’s Note: Just some holiday fluff staring everyone’s favourite peacock

Frederick swirled his wine as he surveyed the room. As much as he loathed BSHCI’s annual Christmas party, he had to admit that the venue looked superb: white Christmas lights were strung about the room casting a warm glow, tasteful red and white floral arrangements adorned every table, and an impeccably decorated Christmas tree, one of the largest he’d ever seen, stood in the center of the room. From his position near the bar, Frederick spied a bunch of mistletoe hanging above the main doorway.

His mood quickly soured when his attention turned from the décor to his coworkers. All around him, his colleagues and their partners were enjoying themselves, which only seemed to amplify his own loneliness. Abandoned at his table while everyone else was mingling, Frederick began to list every insufferable thing about work holiday parties: forced small talk with coworkers whom he despised, barely edible food, overly loud Christmas music (and, god forbid, Christmas karaoke). Taking a sip of his drink, he added ‘wine only a step above grape juice mixed with antifreeze’ to his list.

And then he spotted you in the crowd and acknowledged that work parties did have some advantages.

In your bright red dress, Frederick was surprised he didn’t notice you sooner. You were surrounded by a group of people, talking animatedly with a large smile on your face. While he was too far away to make out what you were saying, he could hear faint sounds of laughter from the group.

You had started at BSHCI two months ago, filling-in for a psychiatrist on maternity leave. On your second day, you literally ran into Frederick, scattering the contents of the patient folders you were carrying across the hallway. It was during your stammered apology, as he helped you pick up papers, that Frederick first felt the butterflies in his stomach that always materialized whenever he saw you.

You turned your head, sensing someone’s eyes on you; realizing it was Frederick, you flashed him a smile. However, Frederick remained rooted in his seat, not daring to go over and say hello. Memories of the last time he mustered up the courage to speak to you flooded his mind. He had been a bundle of nerves, stumbling over his words and even calling you by the wrong name. You had laughed off his faux pas, telling him not to worry and then jokingly called him by the wrong name. That was perhaps what Frederick loved most about you: your kindness. Unlike everyone else in the hospital, you never mocked him. Come to think of it, Frederick couldn’t recall you ever saying a bad word about anyone.

In his seat, Frederick imagined what life would be like if only he were a little bolder. How he would be at your side, his arm wrapped around your waist; how he would proudly introduce you to everyone as his girlfriend; how you would go home with him at the end of the night; how he would find your red dress on his bedroom floor in the morning.

And then the thought hit him that you might already be seeing someone. You’d never mentioned anyone before, but Frederick still found himself anxiously turning his attention to the people around you, checking to see if they worked at the hospital or if there was someone unfamiliar who could be your date. A sense of relief washed over him when he didn’t find anyone, but it quickly dissipated when he observed one of the hospital’s board members lay a hand on your arm. Frederick bitterly noted that it was the youngest (and, according to the nurses, the handsomest) member of the board; the one with the pretentious name, the one who always parked his expensive cars haphazardly across multiple parking spaces, the one who was on the board due to his family’s connections and barely bothered to do any actual work.

His heart sank further as he watched the board member lean down to whisper something in your ear. While Frederick could hardly blame the man for flirting with you, he still found himself silently willing the massive Christmas tree to fall directly on Chauncey or Nigel or whatever his pompous name was.

It was in the midst of this death by Christmas tree fantasy, which now included the tree taking out several additional colleagues who Frederick found particularly unpleasant, that he noticed the nurse.

She wasn’t doing anything out of the ordinary, but Frederick had worked with enough criminals to notice the subtleties of human behaviour. Like, for instance, how the nurse’s wine glass was precariously full or how her gaze, which was focused on you, contained a predatory glint.

While Frederick was quick to piece together the nurse’s intention, he had no time to warn you. He could only sit and helplessly watch the scene unfold: the nurse pretended to trip, spilling her glass of red wine all over your dress. Frederick could tell you didn’t believe it was an accident (even from where he was sitting, he knew that the nurse would never win an Oscar), but you didn’t make a scene. Instead, you graciously accepted her fake apology before excusing yourself to go clean up.

With a mix of excitement and panic, Frederick realized that your path to the washroom would take you right past his table. His pulse quickened as you approached, the pounding of his heart drowning out all external noise. You were frowning slightly, head bent down, as you assessed the damage to your dress.

“Club soda!” Frederick exclaimed, the primitive part of his brain taking over, as you reached his table. He hated how his voice sounded an octave higher than usual.

You paused, turning to face him with a look of confusion. Frederick mentally berated himself; only two words into the conversation and he’d already managed to embarrass himself.

Clearing his throat, he started again. “Club soda will prevent the stain from setting. There’s some at the bar. I, uh, could go get it for you. If you want, that is.”

“That would be great -thanks!” You smiled brightly at him, and Frederick was sure he would develop heart palpitations from how quickly his heart was beating. “Meet me near the washroom?”

Frederick eagerly nodded, earning another smile from you. He knew it was irrational, but part of him hoped that, if he saved your dress, you’d start to see him in a different light, that maybe you would start to feel butterflies, too.

The instant you left, Frederick rushed to the bar, nearly knocking over his chair in the process. He feared that someone would swoop in and help you while he was away, causing him to lose his chance with you. When he found you, though, you were alone, blotting the wine on your dress with flimsy paper towels.

“Hey,” you greeted when you spotted Frederick lingering in the doorway. His arms were laden with bottles of club soda, making you wonder if there were any left at the bar.

“Apologies for taking so long,” Frederick said stepping into the washroom, even though it had only been a few minutes since you last saw him. “I went to get some hand towels as well.”

“You’re amazing!” you beamed, helping him place the items on the bathroom counter. “I’ve had no luck with these paper towels –I think they’re actually making me look worse.” You gestured to a large splotch of wine on your dress.

“You look like a work of art,” he murmured as he studied you in your dress under the pretense of examining the stain. When he looked up at you, there was an unreadable expression on your face.

“I mean,” Frederick started to backtrack, realizing that he had voiced these thoughts aloud. “Your dress -it looks like a Jackson Pollock painting.”

He vaguely gestured to your dress as he prayed for the ground to swallow him up.

“Wine Whirlwind, 2019. Merlot on velvet,” You chuckled, drawing Frederick out of his embarrassment.

“Ah, yes, one of Pollock’s later works. I believe the MoMa is interested in acquiring it,” Frederick added, causing you to laugh harder. A feeling of pride shot through him when you laughed at his joke.

When the laughter died down, you and Frederick were left awkwardly staring at each other. Frederick fiddled with his signet ring, unsure if he was overstaying his welcome.

“So,” you said softly, touching the back of your neck and nodding towards the club soda. “Is there a trick I should know or…?”

“No trick,” Frederick shook his head. “You just pour it on the stain and allow it to sit for a few minutes.”

“Okay,” you paused for a moment before voicing the next thing on your mind. “There’s some wine on the back of my dress that I can’t quite reach -would you mind helping?”

You swept your hair away, revealing the dark red spot near your shoulder, as well as your neck. Frederick audibly swallowed. He envisioned himself placing kisses along the nape of your neck before unzipping your dress and letting it pool on the floor.

“Frederick?” You prompted, meeting his eyes in the mirror.

“Y-yes, that’s fine,” Frederick choked out, closing the distance between you.

As he carefully poured club soda on the stain, Frederick attempted to push the images of you and your alluring red dress out of his mind. He knew that his infatuation with you was one-sided, that he was only getting his hopes up with these daydreams.

“Did you know,” he began, trying to turn his thoughts to a more monotonous topic but nearly losing his train of thought when he caught a whiff of your perfume. “It’s a misconception that sprinkling salt on wine stains will remove them. Red wine contains tannins, and sodium chloride actually sets those types of stains.”

“Hm, I had no idea,” you answered, your eyes downcast and lips pursed as you focused on the giant splotch of wine near the hem of your dress. “It’s a good thing you’re here -a few people told me to use salt.”

“I’m glad my experience is useful. My experience with chemistry, that is. I don’t know all of this because I constantly spill wine on myself. I’m perfectly capable of drinking from a glass,” Frederick babbled. He hated how being around you seemed to turn his brain into mush.

“Well, however you came to know about it, I’m grateful,” you said, catching his gaze in the mirror, a faint smile on your lips.

Frederick felt his cheeks redden as he muttered something incoherent in response.

The two of you worked in silence for the next few minutes, with Frederick stealing glances at you. He couldn’t help but smile at your pursed lips as you concentrated on tackling the stains. He’d noticed a similar expression on your face whenever you dealt with complicated cases.

When the work was done, you turned to him. “Thank you again for helping me, Frederick,” you grinned, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

“O-of course,” he faltered, feeling the familiar flutter in his stomach intensify as your hand touched his.

“I should probably go home…My dress needs to dry and, honestly, I just want to change into my pajamas and watch TV.”

“Right,” Frederick said, trying not to sound disappointed. He wasn’t delusional enough to believe that the night would have ended with you declaring your love for him, but he thought you would at least offer to dance with him out of pity. “Allow me walk you out.”

You nodded, taking his hand as you exited the washroom. Frederick tried not to read too much into the gesture, instead focusing on the way your hand seemed to fit perfectly in his. His small moment of happiness was soon interrupted; as you were heading out, the nurse was coming in from a smoke.

“Oh, I hope you’re not going home! Is it because your dress is ruined?” The nurse asked, barely attempting to conceal her glee.

Frederick gained a small sense of satisfaction at the fact that the pompous board member had abandoned her and was chatting up someone else.

“Thank you for your concern, but my dress is fine. Frederick ended up saving the day,” you coolly replied.

“I’m glad I caught you,” Frederick directed to the nurse. While you were fine taking the high road, he certainly was not. “I was glancing through my patient files and noticed that your notes are a mess. I’ll need you to re-write them.”

“But Dr. Chilton-”

“And while you’re at it, you can also upload the files into the new online system. I’ll need it done by Monday morning, 9am sharp.” Frederick stared her down, ready to add more tedious tasks if she complained.

The nurse simply nodded, albeit with a large scowl on her face, before she left to rejoin the party. He was sure she muttered a few choice words about him under her breath as she stomped off.

“You didn’t have to do that for me,” you glanced up at him, your hand still intertwined with his.

“She was being malicious. She intentionally spilled that glass of wine on you because she was envious of the attention you were getting. I’m not going to let her get away without repercussions. Besides,” he added, lightening the tone lest you find out his feelings for you and reject him. “Who says I did it for you? Maybe, I was avenging the wine she wasted.”

“Please, we both know it wasn’t for the wine -it was basically burgundy-coloured antifreeze,” you warmly smiled before your expression turned more serious. “You know, it’s amazing how you can notice some things and yet be completely oblivious to others.”

“I’m not oblivious,” Frederick scoffed.

“Oh, no, you are. Example number one: you’re standing under the mistletoe,” you smirked, pointing towards the ceiling.

Frederick glanced upwards, finding the bundle of mistletoe he’d noticed at the start of the evening directly above him. He felt his palms become sweaty and he was grateful that his facial hair would partially hide the redness creeping up his neck and cheeks.

“You don’t have to kiss me,” Frederick quickly remarked. “It’s fake anyway, so it wouldn’t be bad luck. I don’t expect-”

“Example number two,” you interrupted before leaning in and placing a chaste kiss on his lips. Frederick barely registered what had happened before you were speaking again. “I’ve had a crush on you since we met.”

For once in his life, Frederick didn’t make a situation worse by rambling. Instead, he pulled you close and kissed you with all of the desire that built up over the last two months. With your lips on his, Frederick could hardly remember why he hated work parties.

In fact, he was looking forward to the next one.

Tag list: @madpanda75 @obsessionprofessional @madkingcrowley @im-like-reallythirsty @burningg-red @nikkijmorgan @misssirenlove @zoeykaytesmom @mommakat32

#frederick chilton x reader #chilton x reader #frederick chilton #chilton #hannibal #christmas fluff

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paulmay42 · 4 years

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The Brexit Years

Out of Lockdown?

Here in the UK we’re getting mixed messages from the Government regarding the lockdown, and how it will be eased off.

I was watching a news broadcast, with a tray of pizza on my lap and a bottle of chardonnay to one side.

“You can now go back to work,” said the announcer.

“No I can’t,” I told her.

“You can meet with one member of your family, unless their name is Nigel.”

“Not a problem, got no Nigels in the family.” I swigged more wine.

“If it’s a Tuesday, then Sharon and Tracy may call on you. However, you must maintain social distancing.”

That made me snigger. “Sharon? Tracy? Filth.”

“You may go out for unlimited exercise, unless you spot Sharon or Tracy. In which case you must maintain extra social distancing of ten metres.”

“Last time I saw Sharon,” I instructed the TV, “she was socially distancing herself by about two centimeters from a punter in the backseat of a Maserati.”

“If you can, use public transport.”

“Easy to say,” I sniffed. “Just not so pleasant in warm weather when you end up sitting on someone else’s sticky spot.”

I mention this because it reminded me of something that happened a few years back, in the White Horse Bar. Every now and then, HM Government stages little exercises for things that might happen. You know. Nuclear war. An asteroid destroys Asia. A lethal pandemic sweeps the globe. Actually, they may have missed that last one.

Anyway, on this occasion, it was ‘Zombie Apocalypse’.

I was serving drinks in the bar to two generals from NATO, one British, the other American.

“Load of bollocks if you ask me,” General Flexible was muttering as he helped himself to peanuts.

“I’m not so sure.” General Brush took a sip of his mineral water.

“As far as I can see,” Flexible continued, “the criteria for being a zombie include shuffling around, not washing and moaning a lot. Which you can see any Tuesday afternoon in any Asda. So even if there was a ZA, as they like to call it, no one would fucking notice.”

Brush seemed to be unhappy with this. “You wouldn’t notice if a blood-spattered wreck of a person tried to eat your brain?”

“I’ve always maintained,” retorted Flexible, “that dealing with a zombie would be very similar to dealing with a paralytic Glaswegian after the pub has closed and all he can think of is to fight his way home. In which case one would resort to basic unarmed combat techniques, and then one would probably shoot him.”

“You just said you were unarmed?”

“No, I said I would resort to unarmed combat techniques. Then I’d shoot him.”

“I thought you British didn’t do guns so much, huh?”

By way of an answer, Flexible reached into his jacket and pulled out a Glock 26, which he put on the counter.

“Fucking hell,” I muttered.

“Another whisky,” Flexible said, and of course I was more than happy to oblige.

“Call that a gun?”

“What?”

“Looks like a gun to me,” I said.

“Pal, this is a gun.” Brush reached into his jacket and with a smooth and clearly well-practiced movement, took out a Magnum 357, and put it on the counter. He clicked his fingers at me. “Whisky. Double.”

“Absolutely sir.”

Flexible seemed a little irritated. “I carry mine for personal protection,” he said. “Not for shooting down helicopters.”

“That popgun? What are you scared of, poodles?”

A few whiskies later, both generals had returned to the subject of the ZA.

“Any fucking zombie comes within a block of me, its head gets turned into a Jackson Pollock,” Brush said, and made a suitable mime with his hands.

“You’ve only got six rounds,” Flexible pointed out. “Supposing he dodges?”

“He’s a zombie. He’s not a fucking Olympic downhill skier.”

“Fine.” Flexible shrugged. “While you’re reloading, I’ll still be firing.”

“Well I ain’t gonna miss. Just one slug from this metal bitch will see any zombie spread across the landscape.”

“Also,” Flexible said, warming to his theme, “there could be hundreds of them, just as they said in the briefing. What then, eh?”

“Air support,” Brush snapped, and emptied his glass. “Which is where you Brits would fail, seeing as you’re down to maybe three aircraft and one tank of gas between them.”

“I say,” protested Flexible. “That’s a bit harsh. In any case, your lot would waste most of their ordnance blowing up their own people.”

As you can imagine, I was getting just a little nervous as I watched the argument escalate, while the whisky continued to flow and guns lay on the bar top.

Finally I felt obliged to step in. “Gentlemen,” I said, “for what it’s worth, if the zombie apocalypse does happen, I think we’ll be fine.”

“Why would that be?” Brush demanded.

“We still have Bruce Willis,” I pointed out.

Well, that broke the ice, and after much chuckling and back-slapping and declarations of friendship thanks to the ‘special relationship’, both generals tucked their guns away and staggered out, leaving me to lock up and lie down in a dark corner to recover.

As for zombies, well, as we all know they don’t exist, so nothing to worry about there. Apart from the question of why NATO feels obliged to keep bloody well going on about them.

#zombie #zombie apocalypse #nato #satire #paulmay42 #writeblr #funny writing #original writing #comedy

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mimosasoccer92 · 3 years

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Excel Spreadsheets Help: 2021

It is impossible to fill your Fantasy Premier League strategy staff with top people on each position as you run out of this budget. The Sky Sports Fantasy Football league has actually a little bit of every little thing provided by those mentioned before. Since entering NFL this year, ranks third in league with 60 dash TDs (including playoffs). Had 141 scrimmage yards (79 rec., 62 dash) in AFC Div. RB JAY AJAYI has actually 98 scrimmage yards (54 dash, 44 rec.) a week ago. RB JAMES WHITE has actually 179 scrimmage yards (89.5 per game) & 5 TDs (3 dash, 2 rec.) in past 2 postseason games. Features 507 scrimmage yards (126.8 per game) with 5 TDs (3 rush, 2 rec.) in past 4 (incl. Had sack & FF in the last game vs. Had sack in the final online game vs. Once the game ‘advanced’ and players began searching more at bat rate though, hickory’s popular faded out.

BBC Radio 4's More or Less is more or less the only show on Brit nationwide broadcasting that deals with numbers in a serious way. Lots of people have various views on which style of wood is the best, plus some are more well-known than others, but eventually it comes down down seriously to user preference. Today an associate associated with the Dodgers, the 31-year-old Pollock might go down once the most useful center fielder in Diamondbacks team history. TDs, many in team history among TEs. TE ROB GRONKOWSKI led all NFL TEs with 1,084 rec. DE BRANDON GRAHAM led team with career-high 9.5 sacks. WR STEFON DIGGS had career-high 8 rec. Features 37 job rec. Features 9 rush TDs in 9 job postseason games. RB LATAVIUS MURRAY connections for NFL lead with 22 dash TDs since 2016 (incl. TDs in 2017. Had 6 receptions for 137 yards, incl. Since 2015, has actually 15 TD catches (incl.

Min. WR NELSON AGHOLOR put career-highs in catches (62), rec. Min. LB NIGEL BRADHAM led team with 88 tackles. Min. DE DEREK BARNETT rated 2nd among NFC rookies with 5 sacks. Has actually 3.5 sacks in previous 2 postseason games. TD catch in past 2 playoff games. 7 TDs. Aims for 7th playoff game in row with TD catch. GW 61-yard TD catch as time expired last week. RB JERICK MC KINNON had rush TD last week. Had rush TD in final conference. Had rush TD last week. Had sack & FF final few days. Aims for 4th playoff game in row with sack. CB XAVIER RHODES had INT & FF in last game vs. 메이저 놀이터 , sack & FF in the last game vs. Min., has 596 pass yards (298 every game) with 3 TDs & 1 INT. Vikings notes: QB CASE KEENUM put career-highs in pass yards (3,547), pass TDs (22) & rating (98.3) in 2017. Passed away for 318 yards & TD in postseason first the other day. Eagles notes: QB NICK FOLES has completed 46 of 63 (73 pct.) with 2 TDs & 0 INTs for 102.7 score in 2 job playoff games. CB PATRICK ROBINSON led team with 4 INTs & 18 PD.

INTs (5) & sack (1.5). Since 2014, leads NFL safeties with 8 sacks. DE TREY FLOWERS had sack last week. Led group with 10 tackles a week ago. S RODNEY MC LEOD had sack a week ago. Had sack in Div. Had 7 tackles & sack in Div. Phi. VIKINGS NOTES RR had INT in Div. LB ANTHONY BARR had INT in Div. City performed at the very least get right back on course by beating Southampton but Spurs’ loss to Wolverhampton Wanderers showed just how fatigued they have been with several players still down injured. With Leonard Fournette currently sitting down with an ankle damage, LeSean McCoy limped down with sore ankle in the 1st 1 / 2. We have reviewed many pc television packages for viewing live tv programs online but that one is the better by a mile. Then, I share with them that individuals, the mentoring staff, will do every thing inside our power to make this the best period possible following the guidelines applied for people.

#메이저 놀이터

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undervioletlights · 3 years

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‘Everyone dies, Miles’ - The Turning (2020)

Directed by Floria Sigismondi Production Design by Paki Smith

Art Direction by Nigel Pollock Costume Design by Leonie Prendergast

#theturning #gothichorror #gothiccinema #gothicproductiondesign #artdepartment #productiondesign

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lilypowerworkblog · 4 years

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Readings/books/texts

Lopesi, Lani “The future of craft in Aotearoa” The pantograph Punch, 05/03/2020 https://www.pantograph-punch.com/post/future-craft-talanoa

Chitham, Karl. U Māhina-tuai, Kolokesa. Skinner, Damian. Crafting Aoteaora: A cultural history of making in New Zealand and the wider Moana published Nov 2019

Batchelor, David Chromophobia published 2000, reaction books uk

Temkin, Ann Colour chart: Reinventing colour, 1950 to Today Published March 1st 2008 MOMA

Itten, Johannes The Art of Colour: The Subjective Experience and Objective Rationale of Colour Published 1973

Albers, Josef Interactions of colour Published 1963 Yale university press

Memory studies, Sage journal, journals.sagepub.com/home/mss 2008 - present

A Field Guide to getting lost by Rebecca Solnit

Borteh, Larissa ”Bauhaus Movement Overview and Analysis”. The art story https:// www.theartstory.org/movement/bauhaus/ First published on 21 Nov 2010.

Fraser, Kim “Redress the value of diverting textile waste in Aotearoa” AUT https:// www.wasteminz.org.nz/wp-content/uploads/2016/11/WasteMINZ-2016-ReDress-The- potential-to-reduce-textile-waste-in-New-Zealand.pdf

Calhoun, Ann The Arts & Crafts Movement in New Zealand, 1870-1940: Women Make Their Mark, published 2000

Ballard, Susan, Linden Liz, Spiral Jetty, geo aesthetics, and art: Writing the Anthropocene published April 8th, 2019

Butler, Cornelia, Gabrielle Mark, Lisa Wack! Art and the feminist Revolution, MIT Press, 2007

Beszek, Maria Elena Extra/Ordinary: Craft and Contemporary art, published 2011

Parker, Rozika, Pollock, Griselda Old Mistresses: Women, art and ideology Published 1981

Betterton, Rosemary, Looking on: Images of felinity in the visual arts and media, Published June 1987

Pollock, Griselda, Vision and Difference: Feminism, Femininity and the Histories of Art Psychology press 2003

Broude, Norma, Garrard, Mary D. Feminism and Art History: Questioning the Litany

Heung Lam, Lai, From Hobbyists to Professionals: the evolution of New Zealand Textile Artists VUW February 2010

Cox, Nigel At The Bach, New Zealand Geographic, https://www.nzgeo.com/stories/at-the-bach/ issue 025, Jan-March 1995

Palenski, Simon Many Threads, exhibition essays: walking forwards backwards Annie Mackenzie, Enjoy, http://enjoy.org.nz/publishing/exhibition-essays/walking-forwards-backwards-2/many-threads sept 2016

Griffin, Jonathan Weaving Histories:The impact of pre-Columbian techniques and designs on 20th-century artists Frieze https://frieze.com/article/weaving-histories-0 Sept 2016 Mackenzie, Annie Interviews (3) with Lyndsay Fenwick, Phillipa Vine, Nola Fournier, Brigit Howitt and Robyn Parker. Nelson, Christchurch and Pauatahanui ENJOY July - august 2016

hhttp://enjoy.org.nz/media/uploads/2016_09/AnnieMackenzie_InterviewwithBrigitHowittRobynParker.pdf

http://enjoy.org.nz/media/uploads/2016_09/2016_AnnieMackenzie_InterviewwithLyndsayFenwick.pdf http://enjoy.org.nz/media/uploads/2016_09/2016_AnnieMackenzie_InterviewwithPhilippaVineNolaFournier.pdf Cohen, Alina These artist would love for you to sit on their work https://www.artsy.net/article/artsy-editorial-artists-love-sit-work

Nesbitt Judith, Slyce, John. Micheal Landy Semi-detached Tate Publishing 2004

Fiell Peter, Charrlotte. 70s Decorative Art TASCHEN 2013

Whiteread Rachel. Walls, doors, floors and stairs edited by Schneider Eckhardt

Artworks/Exhibitions:

Womanhouse, Womanhouse was a feminist art installation and performance space organised by Judy Chicago and Miriam Schapiro, co-founders of the California Institute of the Arts Feminist Art Program and was the first public exhibition of Feminist Art

Walking forwards backwards, by Annie Mckenzie at Enjoy gallery in September 2016

After painting, by Vita Cochran at Anna Miles gallery in 2019

Playground by Lily Power, Erin Kelly, Francesca Vodonovich and Breahn Renwick at Massey University Sprinkler Gallery

Artificial Flies Like Artificial Flowers by Lily Power, Jade Johnston, Jordan Oosterman, Kate Butterworth, Harry Gerrard and Sarah Willis

Weekend House at Lenzerheide by Edi Franz Architect

First House by Group Architects 1949 Auckland

Stock/first floor bronze floor and stock/ second floor Doors In-Out by Rachel whitehead

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qcpainting2 · 7 years

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sesiondemadrugada · 3 years

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Ordinary Love (Lisa Barros D'Sa & Glenn Leyburn, 2019).

#ordinary love #Lisa Barros D'Sa and Glenn Leyburn #lisa barros #glenn leyburn #lesley manville #liam neeson #piers mcgrail #nick emerson #nigel pollock #neil mcnally #vanessa zanardo #adrian greenwood #susan scott #ordinary love (2019)

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ivandimarcofotografo · 6 years

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Pollock storms into London and Banksy dials up the dissent – the week in art

Joe Tilson invades Venice, Helsinki unveils a subterranean culture hub and the prestige art scene finds no takers for Nigel Farage – all in our weekly dispatch

I Object Subversive art from Gillray to Banksy, ancient Egyptian obscenity to a suffragette song, dug up in the British Museum by Private Eye editor Ian Hislop. • British Museum, London, 6 September to 20 January

Continue reading... https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2018/aug/31/pollock-banksy-tilson-week-in-art

#Photography | The Guardian #photography

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ftnbooks-blog · 5 years

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I did not know anything about Maloney and stumbled upon an article by Elena Filipovic and it is a great introduction to this conceptual artist . I recently added the Bulletin 34, from 1971 to my inventory which is now for sale at http://www.ftn-books.com

The history of art is an ocean with many wrecks . Some floating on the surface, most almost inaccessible submerged on the seabed. As an art historian, you can surf the waves, and pick up the supernatant oeuvres, or you can go deep sea diving in the hope of discovering less known, less obvious artists. Today you must scrape the bottom to find literature mentioning the name Martin Maloney (1938 – 2003), and even then you will find only loose fragments and faint traces of an oeuvre .

However, this American artist once was amongst the founders of conceptual art. He had close contacts with the, now classical, conceptual artists and took part in a number of key exhibitions in the late sixties and early seventies.

During this period he was represented by the top galleries of the avant garde , such as Seth Siegelaub in New York, Konrad Fischer in Düsseldorf and Art & Project in Amsterdam.

But the man did not refrain from criticizing the art establishment and his fellow artists , and even used criticism explicitly as the starting point for a number of postcard sized ” language pieces ” (”Designation Deposits” and ”Reject Deposits” , 1967-2001 ). This unruly and polemical art practice, coupled with his radical views and his particular temperament, isolated the artist more and more from the artistic context .

By the time Martin Maloney, at the age of 65, died in Antwerp, he was materially impoverished and maintained only sporadic contacts with the art world .Maloney’s stubborn attitude obviously had other consequences too: because of his own (largely) chosen isolation, he cut himself off from the various channels that art history constructs: gallerists, collectors, critics ,curators ,conservators, art historians, fellow artists. Moreover, he himself destroyed much of his own work. All this results in his absence from the major, canonizing, publications since the seventies devoted to conceptual art .

By putting his radical critique in relation to the art world down on paper, Martin Maloney literally wrote himself out of art history.

After dropping out of university, in 1962, Maloney settled as an artist in New York. Initiall he had a special interest in the work of the postwar New York School painters like Ad Reinhardt , Barnett Newman , Mark Rothko and Jackson Pollock, but gradually shifted his attention away from the pictorial to the textual and non-material forms of art which from the mid- sixties began to emerge. He shared a studio with Lawrence Weiner and maintained relations with artists such as Carl Andre, Joseph Kosuth and Dan Graham.

In 1966, Maloney took part in the infamous ’25’ group exhibition, organized by the young art dealer Seth Siegelaub,who was to become the great promoter of conceptual art a few years later.

Maloney exhibited at Siegelaub several times and also had shows in several major European galleries. By this time, Maloney was looking for alternatives to the traditional gallery exhibition. In many cases, his solo exhibitions would be accompanied with, or even take the form of an artist’s book. Examples are ‘Interguments’ (1969), ‘Fractionals’ (1970) ‘Reject Objects’ (1971) and ‘Five days and five nights’ (1970). The latter book was published in an edition of 500 copies in the framework of Maloney’s one man show at the MTL gallery in Brussels. Maloney locked himself for five days and five nights in the gallery to work on the resulting booklet of poetic statements. The conventional presentation of objects in a gallery made room for the direct communication of ideas in print .

For his next exhibition at London’s Lisson Gallery (1971), Maloney takes things even a step further. After distributing a poster designed by the artist, Maloney takes residence in the gallery and throughout the whole duration of the event goes into direct confrontation with his audience. The resulting insights and frustrations he wrote in white chalk on the black painted walls of the basement. After a short sojourn in London, Maloney moved to Amsterdam in 1973 and leaves behind the hardcore minimalist concept to include wood sculptures and painted text works. Four years later he returned to New York, to gradually retreat in the privacy of his studio, now serving as a laboratory for numerous installations and presentations.

From 1995 until his death he resided in Antwerp, where in 2000 he was invited by Flor Bex to realize a mural for the Museum of Contemporary Art (MUHKA).

Maloney occupied a studio in a dilapidated building on the Jordaenskaai 13 .

What remained in the six rooms of Maloney’s Antwerp working and living environment were, in addition to a number of ”language pieces” and works on paper, the results of his latest artistic experiments: minimalist ‘floor pieces’ and corner stacks, composed of pieces of fallen ceiling plaster, wallpaper, fabric scraps, canvas and wooden beams from the solid oak doors in the building.

Like an architectural archivist Maloney recycled and ordered materials of the decaying building into geometric compositions. It is as if these material traces of a precise and time-consuming labor, the quiet, repetitive activity of the hands were a necessary remedy for the chronic anxiety of the mind .

Johan Pas , Ekeren , January 2004 pace Works”

“To live,” Walter Benjamin once famously wrote, “is to leave traces.” But one could almost say that the recently deceased artist Martin Maloney (1938-2003) lived to efface his. Largely forgotten and omitted from art history, the American artist is all but invisible in institutional collections of the conceptual art he participated in from an early stage.

Thus the title of Maloney’s first posthumous exposition, “Here to Stay”, captures all of the ambiguity of the artist’s oeuvre. The exhibition fills the vast decrepit spaces where the artist lived and worked in solitude for the last 8 years of his life while the Antwerp building was waiting to be demolished.

The works, like the space they occupy, are not there ‘to stay’ at all. Immanent destruction is a ghost that has haunted the building for years. And even though his arrival in this space was relatively recent, Maloney’s works made from the recycling of building detritus have evoked architecture and entropy since the late ‘60s.

He made floor-bound geometric ensembles, each composed of thousands of pieces of any one element: neat piles of fallen ceiling plaster, pyramids of broken bricks, layers of split timber from his studio’s oak doors, or thousands of identical maniacally cut squares of carpet. In his work, the ceiling sat on the floor and wall elements became precarious rubble in the corner. In short, boundaries were elided between architectural elements and sculpture, between object and installation.

These ensembles made infinitely mutable, fragile works—more often than not with nothing holding the components together. They could change form a hundred times… or simply be swept away. ‘Structure’, ‘edge’, ‘edged’, ‘angle’, ‘cut’, ‘split’, ‘split space’: these words line Maloney’s texts, canvases and painted brick-works. Even a sampling of his exhibition titles, “Up Against the Wall” (at Konrad Fischer, Dusseldorf 1971) or “White Walls are Animals” (at Micheline Szwajcer, Antwerp, 1980), give the sense that the constraints of architecture and space — particularly the exhibition space — were never far from Maloney’s thoughts.

For him, the gallery’s symbolic ‘white walls’ needed to be fought, resisted and shown for what they were. In 1971, he locked himself in the confines of the MTL gallery in Brussels for five days and nights. His solitary act and refusal to allow the gallery space its role in visual presentation was the ‘exhibition’, with only a published version of the texts he wrote during his stay in the gallery as material trace.

Martin Maloney’s contribution to David Lamelas’ Publication, Nigel Greenwood Gallery, London, 1970.

For his exhibition at the Lisson Gallery in London that same year, he painted the walls black and wrote lines of conversation and provocation on them during the gallery’s opening hours to incite the visitors who came to communicate with him. Little, if anything, is left of these meetings of the conceptual, the textual and the architectural, and one has the sense that this is somehow as Maloney wanted it.

Maloney was active as a conceptual artist in the ‘60s close to the likes of Lawrence Weiner, Carl Andre, Joseph Kosuth and Dan Graham. He made his material pile sculptures and conceptual projects alongside a vast body of intricately shaped canvases, highly structured language pieces, box sculptures, and painted statements on canvas.

Poster “Here To Stay”

To see some of what remains of this work on exhibit is to feel a ricochet of influences, references, and dialogues (with Weiner and Andre, of course, but also Frank Stella, Robert Smithson, Gordon Matta-Clark, Arte Povera…). Over time, however, he managed to alienate himself from his fellow artists, galleries, collectors, curators and art history alike. With the exhibition’s end, the works on show will travel to museum spaces that share little of the precariousness that make a building in ruin a fitting context for the artist’s complex, volatile work.

The form of the works and their dialogue with space will necessarily change, and Maloney would probably never have accepted such an exhibition at all. As he knew too well, white walls are animals indeed

Martin Maloney (1923) I did not know anything about Maloney and stumbled upon an article by Elena Filipovic and it is a great introduction to this conceptual artist .

#a #amsterdam #artproject #conceptual #maloney

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