#slow galerie

[camilledecussac]

[annacswenson]

•

Jessica Lisse, « Seule »

[miammmiam]

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[aquilae-stims]

👑 Les Trésors du château de Versailles 👑

[garadinervi]

Edith Dekyndt, Slow Object 017, (silver leaves on cotton), 2020 [Galerie Greta Meert, Bruxelles-Brussel. © Edith Dekyndt]

[isstoria]

Many men cas challenge by @mogsimmer

Day nine : Hippie✌️

Adrians have a simple lifestyle. Always relaxed and living the slow life to the fullest, nothing can bother this sim. Planting his little garden he is, enjoying life he is ~

Don't try to kill his vibe please. He's a nice guy ❤️

Adrian Obrego - young adult - he/him

aspiration: Freelance botanist

traits: Good, Freegan, Vegetarian

Download : simefileshare // Galery ID : Isstoria

Optional downloads

vanilla skin

delicate eyes + delicate eyes recolors

[askwhatsforlunch]

Chestnut Liqueur

This delicious Chestnut Liqueur takes some time, heaps of patience and a little effort to make, which means it is a special gift to whomever you're making it for --and yes, you can make it for your own self! This fragrant tipple which smells and tastes like a seasonal walk in the woods, or a bag of Marrons Chauds  by the Christmas windows of Les Galeries or Le Printemps, is for my Mum, whose quite fond of it! Happy Friday!

Ingredients (makes):

a dozen large (or 15 smaller) fresh chestnuts*

1 1/2 cup water

1/2 cup caster sugar

1/2 cup demerara sugar

half a litre/2 cups fruit alcohol or vodka (at least 40% alcohol)

*if you have picked them in the woods rather than bought them at the market, carefully remove the prickly burr (using gardening gloves!)

Thoroughly rinse the chestnuts, and place them in a medium saucepan. Cover with water, and bring to the boil over medium-high heat. Once boiling, reduce heat to medium, and cook, 1 hour, adding more water as it evaporates so the chestnuts are always submerged.

Once cooked, drain, and allow to cool.

Then comes the tedious task of peeling the chestnuts. Put some carols or your favourite music on, then remove the outer case and the skin that sticks to the nuts, using a sharp knife and a lot of patience.

Once peeled, place chestnuts into a clean saucepan. Cover with the water, and bring to a slow boil over medium heat. Reduce heat to medium-low, and simmer, 15 minutes, until chestnuts are tender.

Stir in caster and demerara sugars until dissolved, and simmer, 15 minutes more.

Pour hot chestnut mixture, with the chestnuts and all, into a large sterelised jar.

Stir in fruit alcohol, to combine well, and close the jar tightly.

Place the jar in a draught-free place, and allow to steep and infuse, at least a fortnight, shaking the jar every day. The longer you wait, the more fragrant your liqueur will be.

Once you're happy with the flavour, strain Chestnut Liqueur into a sterelised glass bottle.

Chestnut Liqueur might make a great gift to bring your friends, and will be delicious in a cocktail, simply topped with Champagne or drizzled over ic. You can also enjoy it well-chilled on its own after dinner.

[peachmoonprince]

Summary: In all Arthur’s time wandering the wilderness and travelling around towns, there was only one place that had seemed likely to house an art exhibition–Saint Denis–and with just a little bit of poking around, he’d managed to find one. It was a pain working with the prissy rich folk, getting this damn show running, but he had his eyes set on a prize and no snobby asshole or bribed lawman was going to get in his way.

Notes: No warnings or anything, just a lil somethin' where Arthur actually meets Albert in the gallery. First fic I've posted in a long, long time lmao. More to come! Not quite sure what!

Fic below for those who want to stay on site:

Arthur Morgan practically slid into the corridor, pulling his hat down to cover more of his face as he fumbled in his pockets for a cigarette. Watch your breathing, watch your posture, the best place to hide is in plain sight. He struck a match right as the cops ran by, shouting at each other with guns raised.

“Where the hell’d he go?”

“He must’ve taken that turn up the road.”

“Goddammit–!”

He held the match steady, an inch away from the end of the dart, frozen in position until the thundering footsteps of the police faded away. With a few more precious seconds on his hands, he let out the breath he’d been holding, letting it extinguish the flame just before it singed his fingertips. He flicked the used wood aside, flicked the brim of his hat up just a touch, and flicked his gaze over to the other man leaned against the opposite wall of the corridor.

The stranger met his eyes with surprise, lips parting stupidly as he seemed to fish for the right words. Arthur pushed himself off the wall slow, took the two short steps needed to cross, and tilted his head as he spoke, low and threatening. “You didn’t see nothin’, did you, friend?”

The man shook his head. “N-no, no, I didn’t see anything.”

“But on the off chance y’did,” His head gestured down the corridor, out to the courtyard, “Then it seems that wicked outlaw went thataway, right?”

“That way, yes, yes, he went that way, I-I-I saw him round the corner and head north.”

Arthur nodded, stepping back and smiling around the cigarette still held between his teeth. “Good, I’m real glad we’re in agreement.” He reached up, tipping the brim of his hat before turning towards the nearby stairs. “Good day t’you.”

“G-good day to you, too.” The man slinked further back into the corridor as Arthur left, no doubt more than ready to leave the area and busy himself with something less likely to get him killed.

In all Arthur’s time wandering the wilderness and travelling around towns, there was only one place that had seemed likely to house an art exhibition–Saint Denis–and with just a little bit of poking around, he’d managed to find one. It was a pain working with the prissy rich folk, getting this damn show running, but he had his eyes set on a prize and no snobby asshole or bribed lawman was going to get in his way.

It felt like ages since he’d last seen Albert Mason, and those last words that fell from his lips had been ringing in Arthur’s ears ever since. A gallery, a show, a place to display those photos he’d worked so hard to take; Arthur had been asking about it any time he stopped somewhere new, to the point where a few of the ladies back at camp had taken to teasing him for it, calling him cultured, sophisticated now, soft. They all meant it in jest, but there was truth to it–at least that last bit; he had grown soft, just barely, right around the edges, right where his rough and tumble need for freedom met with gentle hands on his arms and the desire for companionship. It was rubbing off of him, calluses in warm sand.

He stowed his cigarette and climbed the stairs two at a time, only stalling a moment when he reached the top and locked eyes with the gallery attendant. The man sighed, gestured towards the opened doors of the gallery room, voice dripping with sarcasm so heavy you’d think the words were pulled out of him like teeth. “Welcome in, I hope you enjoy the exhibit.”

Arthur’s brows picked up a bit, confused but polite enough to not inquire further as he nodded and moved through the doorway. The first room was small, a door to his right leading into a much longer hall where more people seemed to be congregating–not that this room didn’t have its fair share of folks, crowded around sculptures with champagne in hand, murmuring amongst themselves about the character of each piece. Arthur had half a mind to roll his eyes but before he had the chance his attention was drawn to the wall to his left.

He couldn’t help the grin that spread over his face as he spotted the first photograph, nor could he stop his feet from carrying him over to stand before it, the only admirer of the pack of wolves ready to pounce. “I’ll be damned.” He muttered to himself, thumbs catching on his belt as he both admired and reminisced.

“It’s truly amazing how well that one turned out, isn’t it?” Arthur didn’t need to look up to recognize the man who came to stand beside him, his grin somehow growing wider with each of his words. “At the time it seemed like a miracle that I hadn’t wound up their lunch, though these days I’d say the real miracle was how stunning the composition is. The rest was just the thrilling work of man.”

“Mr. Mason.” He greeted, warmly.

“Mr. Morgan.” Albert’s greeting was equally warm, drawing Arthur’s attention away from the photo and finally meeting the gaze of the man beside him. They seemed to stare for both eternity and hardly a second, both men clearly pleased with this meeting. Albert was the one to break their pleasant silence. “I’m amazed you’re here.”

“Practically aged thirty years tryin’ to find the damn place, let alone get it open.”

Albert hummed, hands catching in front of himself. “So it was your kindness yet again that helped me finally get into a show. I’d been waiting for ages for the rest of the slots to fill.”

Arthur huffed, shaking his head and letting his attention turn back to the wolves.

“Well? What do you think?”

“Can’t say yet,” He gestured vaguely with his hand to the rest of the room, “You caught me lookin’ at the first one.”

“Ah! Yes, yes, would be hard to judge based on just the one, hm? Shall we look at the rest then?”

Arthur nodded, following Albert’s quick steps to the next photo to their right. This one had caught the eye of a different pair of guests, a woman and a man, the former of which seemed captivated by the piece while the latter swirled his champagne with mild disinterest.

“It’s practically unfathomable how close they are.” She spoke softly to the man beside her. “I’ve heard others say that wild horses are near impossible to get close to.”

“That’s why all of these must have been staged. This one especially–all he would have had to do is take the saddles off and tell the horses to run. Wild, pfft, there’s no way.” The man shook his head, eyes firmly planted on his drink.

“Either of you ever ridden a horse before?” Arthur raised a brow at their skepticism. “Wild ones are skittish, sure, but they’re much more scared of a movin’ man than a still one.”

The woman turned her head to face the two of them, a spark of recognition lighting her features. “Oh! You must have been the consult on these then, weren’t you?”

Arthur laughed, shaking his head. “Consult?”

“Sure, sure. Mr. Morgan here was a great help, very knowledgeable man.” Albert’s quick to praise him, gesturing with a hand to the photo before them. “You’re quite right about their distance, they were practically specks on the horizon before Mr. Morgan offered to herd them in closer for me.”

“Oh wow!” She seemed impressed, looking back at the photo and smiling warmly. Recognition seemed to hit her again as she stepped in closer, leaning towards the left side of the image. “Would that horse there be you then, Mr. Morgan? I wasn’t quite sure what it was doing back there, it was a bit too far to be part of the group, but I suppose that blur between the horse and the tree leaves–”

“Why yes, that does appear to be him!” Albert leaned in with her, a hand resting on Arthur’s arm. “I’d hardly realized, I was so focused on the composition of the other horses.”

“A second feature in this collection, what an honor.” The woman locked eyes with Arthur, smiling at his confused expression for just a moment before the man beside her was beckoning for them to move along. “Ah, my impatient husband, if you’ll excuse us.”

Both men nodded at the pair as they moved into the next room, the action brief before Arthur turned to Albert. “Second feature?”

“Shall we look at the next one then?” Albert was clearly ignoring the question, hand sliding to the back of Arthur’s arm, ushering him along.

The third picture hung on the adjacent wall was the clearest of the three Arthur had seen so far, so much closer than he had figured the two had gotten to the alligator in question. The scales along its face were practically visible. “Wow…” He breathed out, previous question lost in his wonder.

“This one is stunning, too. Honestly, all of the photos I submitted here turned out quite fantastic.”

“I’d say…” Arthur nodded in agreement, “Especially with the boat rockin’ the way it was.”

“You have an incredibly steady hand with those oars you know.” Albert grinned. “If I’d been on my own for this, well, I think we both know how that would have turned out.”

“There’d be no gallery at all–and that’d be quite a shame.”

“Quite a shame indeed.”

Arthur turned away from the wall, looking along the rest of the length and scanning the room as he spoke. “You manage to get that eagle shot before you–” His words caught in his throat as his eyes landed on the photo across the room from the two of them. Arthur paced over, side-stepping fellow patrons with mumbled politeness, until he was stood before the final photo in the exhibit, a portrait of himself. “Wha–”

“Well, you know,” Albert had followed, finding his place beside Arthur once again, hands fretting before himself as he spoke, “I was photographing–”

“When did you take this?” Arthur’s eyes were locked ahead, scanning the tree line, his own features, trying to pinpoint when this photo was shot.

“This one? Oh, um…”

“This one? As in there’s more?”

“Well!” He sighed. “Mr. Morgan, can you really blame me? I’m a photographer–an artist, a capturer of the beauty of nature, I could hardly pass up an opportunity to–”

“Then what the hell drove you to go takin’ pictures of me?” His eyes lift from the portrait, confusion on his face evident as he turned his head.

“It’s like I was saying, look,” Albert gestured to the portrait, “My camera was set up already, the light was hitting your face just right, the cover of the trees from behind, it all lit you up like fine art, Mr. Morgan–and I hadn’t even asked you to pose.”

Arthur scoffed, shaking his head, lips parting in rebuttal that’s cut off before he gets the chance to try.

“Oh hush, your clear lack of self-esteem aside, I’m sure you’ve noticed others find you quite attractive, yes? I’m sure you have women practically falling at your feet, do you not?”

“Well–”

“My point exactly: If I, a humble artist, have set out to capture the beauty of nature to share with the world, and am set before the most beautiful sunset I’ve ever seen, am I not to turn my camera to it? Am I to tear down and say ‘well, surely someone with the goal of capturing sunsets will come along sometime’–no! Absolutely not! I take the shot!”

Arthur’s fallen quiet at the passionate speech, eyes still scanning over the picture. Albert clears his throat, his hand resting on one of Arthur’s crossed arms.

“And when I saw how well this one turned out, well, my mission was to preserve America’s greatest predators before they all go extinct, yes?” His voice softened as he continued speaking, lowering to the same murmur the other patrons shared, and he let his own gaze rest on the portrait as well. “I’m sure you’ve seen the signs–the era of civilization overtaking. I figured if there were any outlaw worthy of being immortalized as one of the greatest predators of the west, it should be the man who stopped and came to my aid time and time again–who has likely shown the same kindness to countless others despite what reputation others much like him seem to carry.”

Arthur chewed at his lip, shaking his head slightly, knowing better than to protest verbally. He sighed, leaning in a bit closer to Albert, taking comfort in the way the man rubbed his arm. “I s’pose.”

The silence that filled between them was slightly less comfortable this time, just enough that Albert spoke up again. “Well, I suppose we have only looked at my own pieces thus far, shall we take a peek at the rest of the gallery?”

“I think I’ve seen what I was after.”

Albert laughed, letting his hand drop off Arthur’s arm and watching as the arms uncross and fall with him. “Not the type to enjoy this sort of sophisticated expressionism then, hm?”

Arthur shook his head, smile reappearing on his face. “No, no, not for me.”

“Then what do you say we celebrate the showing of this little adventure of ours, yes? Perhaps you’d like a tour of my studio, a round of drinks on me. How long are you staying in town?”

“Long as I can manage, I s’pose. I’ve…” He considered his wording for a moment, scratching the back of his neck, “Made myself a few unfortunate enemies while doin’ all this, not sure it’d be a good idea to stick around me too long.”

“I see. Then we lay low, we stay in, perhaps I’ll find myself a new project to begin on by the time you decide to leave and we can run for it together.” They stand shoulder to shoulder, staring straight ahead, Albert’s fingers brushing against Arthur’s.

“Y’know, I think I may like that.”

[camilledecussac]

LA LIESSE https://www.slowgalerie.com/fr/

[annacswenson]

•

Jessica Lisse - Slow Galerie

[miammmiam]

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[aquilae-stims]

👑 Les Trésors du château de Versailles 👑

[dewiningtias]

I miss my self

Waktu luang aku melihat-lihat galeri photo dan tulisan yang pernah ku buat di media sosial (sebuah curahan hati tentang keresahan sehari-sehari) sungguh heran kok sempat sempat nya dulu nulis segitu panjang detail dan lebar. Aku melamun menengok lagi diriku 4 / 5 tahunan yang lalu. Masih cukup muda, punya banyak waktu luang, slow life, slow pace, aku merindukan keheningan dan kelambanan itu. Weekend di toko buku, sore menmbaca novel, malam menghabiskan drama korea, menghayal dan menulis apa yang aku rasakan dan apa yang terjadi padaku selama seharian.

Melihat diriku yang sekarang membuatku sedikit merenung apa aku yang dulu adalah aku yang sekarang. Diriku hari ini, bangun pagi-pagi, riweh dengan anak suami dan pekerjaan, pulang sudah sore, begelut dengan anak dan suami lagi. Tiba-tiba petang datang, sangat lelah, beranjak tidur dan kembali berputar seperti itu. Tidak sempat lagi membeli buku karena mainan anak lebih mendesak untuk dibeli, tidak ada lagi baca novel atau nonton drama karena anak butuh ditemani main. Tidak ada lagi lari pagi karena harus segera prepare sarapan dan kerja. Tidak bisa lagi mandi lama, tidur siang 3 jam atau jalan-jalan malam karena prioritas lain yang memang harus dilakukan.

Ternyata orang yang 5 tahun lalu dan orang yang sekarang sudah menjadi istri dan ibu ini adalah orang yang masih sama. Kalau dulu hal-hal luang itu membuat bahagia, sekarang beda, aktivitas seputar anak dan suami ini juga membuat bahagia. Aku sadari tenyata manusia mudah sekali berkembang dan beradaptasi. Tapi ada masanya aku merindukan hal hal yang dulu terutama diriku sendiri, karena jujur sejak menjadi seorng istri dan ibu kita tidak bisa selalu jadi nomor satu. Ada anak yang masih butuh pendampingan ada suami yang harus diperhatikan maka diri kita sendiri kadang harus dikesampingkan.

Aku tidak menyesal karena kupikir segala sesuatu ada masanya dan tanggung jawab kita menikmati dan menghikmati setiap masa itu. Aku percaya anak yang aku dampingi akan terus tumbuh dan menjadi mandiri dia akan mulai lepas dariku suatu saat nanti. Saat itu akan cukup waktu lagi untuk merawat diriku sendiri dan cukup luang untuk mengasihi hati dan pikiranku.

[feliciagarrivan]

Isabelle Wenzel

Isabelle Wenzel (b. 1982, Germany) studied to be a photographer/artist, but is also a trained acrobat. Usually, she sets her own body before the camera. Within the seconds that the self-timer allows her, she assumes an impossible position and continues to hold it until the camera has clicked.

The central focus of the photographs of Isabelle Wenzel is the body as a physical form, rather than people themselves. By making a photograph, she freezes a pose in time as it were, and in doing so draws attention to the sculptural qualities of the body. In order to achieve a certain image, the manoeuvres need to be carried out repeatedly. In this way, Wenzel does her own little experimental performance in front of the camera, which captures it for us in ‘frozen’ form as a photograph.

Artist statement:

I stretched forward. Felt sensations of heaviness. Was overwhelmed by choice. Got lost. Stumbled. Failed. Started again. I’m a space in the landscape. A geological formation. A botanical shape. An island of isolation.  A thinking body. Look at me in slow motion. Look at me frozen in time.

Isabelle Wenzel

Curriculum Vitae

 

Born 1982 in Wuppertal, Deutschland

Lives and works in Wuppertal

 

Education

2008-2010 Gerrit Rietveld Academie, Amsterdam, (NL)

2005-2008 Fachhochschule, Bielefeld, (DE)

 

Residencies / Nominations / Grants

2021 Arbeitsstipendium Stiftung Kunstfonds Bonn, DE

2016 Individuelle Projektförderung, Kunststiftung NRW, DE

2013 Jahresstipendium, Mondriaan Stiftung, Niederlande, NL

2011 Startstipendium, Fonds voor Beeldende Kunsten, Vormgeving, Bouwkunst, Amsterdam NL

2011 European Photo Exhibition Award - Körber-Stiftung, Hamburg DE

2010 Virtual Zoom, Fotografie Stipendium, Virtual Museum Zuidas, Amsterdam NL

2007 Des Prix-Leica, Fachhochschule Bielefeld, DE

Collections

Albert Heijn Kunststichting, NL

ENECO Kunstcollectie, NL

SBK Kunstuitleen & Galerie, Amsterdam, NL

Kunstcollectie Ymere, Amsterdam, NL

FOAM/ Photographie Museum/ Amsterdam/ NL

VU MC Sammlung/ Amsterdam/ NL

 

Solo Exhibitions

2022 Automatia, Galerie Bart, Amsterdam, NL

2021 Isabelle Wenzel, Video installations, Expo Bart, Nijmegen NL

2020 Counting till 10 – Solo – Galerie Bart, Amsterdam, NL

2017 ‘Unernstes unterfangen’, Galerie Bart, Amsterdam, NL

2016 London Art Fair, Solo, Galerie Bart, London, UK

2015 Scotiabank CONTACT Fotografie Festival, Isabelle Wenzel, Metro Hall Toronto, CA

2013 Isabelle Wenzel, what the body knows, 44 Gallery, Brugge, BE

2013 10 Seconds, Isabelle Wenzel, Rene Hauser Gallery, Zürich, CH

2013 I'D Like To Double Your Entendre, Warte für Kunst, Kassel, DE

2012 Solo, Isabelle Wenzel, Ku Gallery, Taipei, Taiwan, CN

2010 Building Images, Kunst Kapel, Amsterdam, Virtueel Museum Zuidas, Amsterdam NL

 

Selected group exhibitions

2022 Numero Berlin – All Collection Vol. II Jonathan Vincent Baron and Isabelle Wenzel, Berlin DE

2022 Approche - Galerie Bart, Paris, FR

2022 Von draußen nach drinnen, Sparkasse Wuppertal, DE

2021 Unseen Amsterdam Galerie Bart, NL

2021 B/U/ILD, Neuer Kunstverein Wuppertal, De

2020 Out and about, public exhibition during Covid19, Wuppertal, DE

2019 Emergent, Platform for contemporary art, Veurne, BE

2019 Pick Me – We Like Art at Collectie DE.GROEN, Arnhem, NL

2019 – Naak Of Bloot, Museum Jan Cunen, Oos, NL

2018 – Loch – Galerie – Let’s Pretent You Don’t Know Me, Anne Huijnen, Michel und Isabelle Wenzel, Wuppertal, DE

2018 – A Balancing Act – Kunsthal Amersfoort, NL

2018 – Paradise – performance at Schauspielhaus Wuppertal, DE

Selected Works

Automatia

Book

Interviews with Isabelle

https://www.lampoonmagazine.com/article/2022/03/31/isabelle-wenzel/

Youtube Section

[isstoria]

Many men cas challenge by @mogsimmer

Day twelve : Athlete🥇

Niram worked hard to get where he is today. Completely consumed by his passion, he didn't see what and who he was leaving behind. Today, Niram is still working hard with his team to achieve their shared dream of becoming Olympic champions.

He's running really fast and never looking back, but if he falls in love… maybe, just maybe, he'll slow down.

Niram Horton - young adult - he/him

aspiration: Bodybuilder

traits: Active, Bro, Family oriented

Download : simfileshare // Galery ID : Isstoria (activate cc included to see the sim)

Optional downloads

vanilla skin

delicate eyes + delicate eyes recolors

[primaverabutitalreadyexists]

Because my friends and I have been talking about different versions of Viktor, I had an idea that I wanted to ask. What do you think Viktor would be like if he were French instead of Czech/Russian? Are there little cultural habits he might've grown up with? What would his regional dialect be? If he were in modern France, what do you think he'd like to do? Where would he like to hang out or visit? Any restaurants/bars he might like? I'm curious to know if he likes Paris. I know it's just a stereotype, but thinking about him with a French accent is also a little fun because it makes me remember old cartoons where there'd be so much flirting in French and now I can't help but giggle at the idea of Viktor as a huge hopeless romantic flirt

Ohh tough one! I honestly cannot picture him without his accent, and trying to imagine a French accent on him makes me cringe a bit because I dislike mine ahah sounds like I have something stuck in my throat.

For the fun fact, in the french dubbed version of Arcane, Viktor doesn’t have that Czechs accent, but… a German one! It’s subtle, but you can hear that German lilt in his voice. I’m very curious of the reason behind that choice. Im also curious about the other dubbings, what accent does he has?

Anyway, if he was French, I imagine an early 20th century Parisian accent would fit him, the same type of accent you could hear in the popular districts of Paris at that time. It’s a bit complex to explain, because each district had its own accent, but to give you an exemple, Edith Piaf spoke that way when she was young. It’s not the typical boujee, refined and classy accent at all, but Viktor himself comes from a working-class background.

Habits he might have grown with as a Parisian would be driving his electric scooter on the curb and curse at people walking too slow, eating quinoa in a quinoa bar, drink organic wine and say shit like « Ah yes mmmh very round in the palate, I can feel the chocolate and pear notes mmmh yeah », go to Concrete (rip Concrete no one misses you) and finish his night sitting on the curb with a kebab. In the morning he goes to his favorite bakery to buy a baguette pas trop cuite svp. Nah just joking, I think he’d love to go to museums, in particular at the Musée d’Orsay, le musée des Arts et Métiers, le Grand Palais and all the various expositions you can find all across Paris all year long. I think he would love some quiet moments on the banks of Seine, when it’s not too crowded, stroll in Galerie Vivienne to his favorite bookshop and then have a coffee while reading a freshly bought book.

I think Paris is an interesting choice for Viktor, the undercity has a lot of Paris inspiration, mostly due to the omnipresence of Art Nouveau.