#the wrong train

[hinamie]

mentor

[hamletthedane]

I was meeting a client at a famous museum’s lounge for lunch (fancy, I know) and had an hour to kill afterwards so I joined the first random docent tour I could find. The woman who took us around was a great-grandmother from the Bronx “back when that was nothing to brag about” and she was doing a talk on alternative mediums within art.

What I thought that meant: telling us about unique sculpture materials and paint mixtures.

What that actually meant: an 84yo woman gingerly holding a beautifully beaded and embroidered dress (apparently from Ukraine and at least 200 years old) and, with tears in her eyes, showing how each individual thread was spun by hand and weaved into place on a cottage floor loom, with bright blue silk embroidery thread and hand-blown beads intricately piercing the work of other labor for days upon days, as the labor of a dozen talented people came together to make something so beautiful for a village girl’s wedding day.

What it also meant: in 1948, a young girl lived in a cramped tenement-like third floor apartment in Manhattan, with a father who had just joined them after not having been allowed to escape through Poland with his pregnant wife nine years earlier. She sits in her father’s lap and watches with wide, quiet eyes as her mother’s deft hands fly across fabric with bright blue silk thread (echoing hands from over a century years earlier). Thread that her mother had salvaged from white embroidery scraps at the tailor’s shop where she worked and spent the last few days carefully dying in the kitchen sink and drying on the roof.

The dress is in the traditional Hungarian fashion and is folded across her mother’s lap: her mother doesn’t had a pattern, but she doesn’t need one to make her daughter’s dress for the fifth grade dance. The dress would end up differing significantly from the pure white, petticoated first communion dresses worn by her daughter’s majority-Catholic classmates, but the young girl would love it all the more for its uniqueness and bright blue thread.

And now, that same young girl (and maybe also the villager from 19th century Ukraine) stands in front of us, trying not to clutch the old fabric too hard as her voice shakes with the emotion of all the love and humanity that is poured into the labor of art. The village girl and the girl in the Bronx were very different people: different centuries, different religions, different ages, and different continents. But the love in the stitches and beads on their dresses was the same. And she tells us that when we look at the labor of art, we don’t just see the work to create that piece - we see the labor of our own creations and the creations of others for us, and the value in something so seemingly frivolous.

But, maybe more importantly, she says that we only admire this piece in a museum because it happened to survive the love of the wearer and those who owned it afterwards, but there have been quite literally billions of small, quiet works of art in billions of small, quiet homes all over the world, for millennia. That your grandmother’s quilt is used as a picnic blanket just as Van Gogh’s works hung in his poor friends’ hallways. That your father’s hand-painted model plane sets are displayed in your parents’ livingroom as Grecian vases are displayed in museums. That your older sister’s engineering drawings in a steady, fine-lined hand are akin to Da Vinci’s scribbles of flying machines.

I don’t think there’s any dramatic conclusions to be drawn from these thoughts - they’ve been echoed by thousands of other people across the centuries. However, if you ever feel bad for spending all of your time sewing, knitting, drawing, building lego sets, or whatever else - especially if you feel like you have to somehow monetize or show off your work online to justify your labor - please know that there’s an 84yo museum docent in the Bronx who would cry simply at the thought of you spending so much effort to quietly create something that’s beautiful to you.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Actually, the bars aren't so bad anymore.

Think you can fix him? Read about his care instructions over at Tiger Tiger)

[inkskinned]

love when men cry about body hair bc "it's hygiene" and yet 15% of cis men leave the bathroom without washing their hands at all and an additional 35% only just wet their hands without using soap. that is nearly half of all men. that means statistically you have probably shaken hands with or been in direct contact with one of these people.

love when men say that women "only want money" when it turns out that even in equal-earning homes, women are actually adding caregiver burdens and housework from previous years, whereas men have been expanding leisure time and hobbies. in equal-earning households, men spend an average of 3.5 hours extra in leisure time per week, which is 182 hours per year - a little over a week of paid vacation time that the other partner does not receive. kinda sounds like he wants her money.

love that men have decided women are frail and weak and annoying when we scream in surprise but it turns out it's actually women who are more reliable in an emergency because men need to be convinced to actually take action and respond to the threat. like, actually, for-real: men experience such a strong sense of pride about their pre-supposed abilities that it gets them and their families killed. they are so used to dismissing women that it literally kills them.

love it. told my father this and he said there's lies, damned lies, and statistics. a year ago i tried to get him to evacuate the house during a flash flood. he ignored me and got injured. he has told me, laughing, that he never washes his hands. he has said in the last week that women are just happier when we're cooking or cleaning.

maybe i'm overly nostalgic. but it didn't used to feel so fucking bleak. it used to feel like at least a little shameful to consider women to be sheep. it just feels like the earth is round and we are still having conversations about it being flat - except these conversations are about the most obvious forms of patriarchy. like, we know about this stuff. we've known since well before the 50's.

recently andrew tate tried to justify cheating on his partner as being the "male prerogative." i don't know what the prerogative for the rest of us would be. just sitting at home, watching the slow erosion of our humanity.

[metamatronic]

I really like the "Champions get Resurrected" idea! I hope to see more of it in the future!

how to piss of the Bird™ (any % speedrun)

(this was my practice pass on how to draw Rito, so forgive the inconsistencies, loll)

[thatgaywizardoverthere]

Arthur keeping tabs on Merlin day 1 so they can “accidentally” run into each other at the market

[missriyochuchi]

If you know you have covid and still walk around unmasked, you’re a bad person. If you know you have covid and don’t tell the people around you, you’re a bad person. If it takes your diagnosis being outed for you to mask up in front of a mic, you’re a bad person. If every other athlete who tested positive pulled out and you didn’t, YOU’RE A BAD FUCKING PERSON, NOAH LYLES!

[copypastus]

Feyre's selective hearing is the origin of my villain arc.

[ghost-bxrd]

Prompt:

Damian, who has just lost the last member of his family, goes off the deep end and, in a fit of violent rage, goes tumbling through a portal and back in time.

Jason doesn’t know how the scary guy with the gunshot wound became his problem but he’s not heartless enough to leave him to bleed out beside some dumpster in Crime Alley.

[escyn]

some more thoughts about Her (Suki aged 25-30)

+ some bonus zukki

[spiderziege]

landscape practice!

[laniidae-passerine]

I don’t think Tashi’s look of disgust when Art kisses her knee is actually about him. It’s at herself. Their dynamic is so entirely shaped by power, by the fact that Art is lesser than her. She’s better at tennis, better at keeping her control, better at getting Patrick to fall into her bed. It’s the uncaring idol and the tortured devotee. Hell, it’s outright stated; she asks “what am I, Jesus?” and he says “yes” like it’s obvious. Even the way they sit in that scene shows how Tashi is a religion to him, kissing and bowed over her lap like in prayer. Which is why, to a woman who buys into that dynamic, who also thinks of herself as God to Art’s worshipper, it’s so disgusting that she truly does love him. Tashi adores him. Not even close to as much as she adores tennis, but she does. Right after that scene she goes and asks Patrick to throw the match - because if Art loses, she leaves him. And she doesn’t want to have to leave him. It goes against what she knows. God is not supposed to make sacrifices for mere mortals. Achilles is not meant to swoon at the soft weakness of his heel. But here she is, seeing the chip in her armour and thinking it lovely anyway. Hence the look.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Lan Wangji Goes To Lotus Pier AU: Part 1: Dread on Arrival

(Part 2)

[inkskinned]

it mattered because when my brother asked me what if this is the happiest you'll ever be? the best you'll ever get? the thing i felt was fear, not peace. everybody thought you were so perfect for me. even i thought you were "helping me grow". i had to challenge every internal clock. make myself more thoughtful, more kind, more beautiful.

i told my therapist it was good because i like the changes i made and there's something so strong about saying i did that. the problem is that i can like the difference all i want, but i changed for you. something akin to getting your name tattooed, all my progress is stamped with fuck you.

it was the happiest i'd ever been and also the best i'd ever gotten. i would still get in the car and think what the fuck just happened.

[rhinocio]

raph hours feat. Cass Apocalypse daddy dino

--

そうですか? (sou desu ka?) - Is that so? そうです! (sou desu!) - That's right! / That's so! あ,そうか (a, sou ka) - Really / I see

ラファエル (rafaeru) - Raphael

@somerandomdudelmao

[puppyeared]

Nick and Pearls