#though I think I should take backgrounds as an option off my comm sheet for the time being

[raveartts]

Background test where the only thing I learned is that my computer Does Not Like backgrounds :)

[bvannn]

Weekly Update March 1, 2024

I’m not doing the best this week but I’m also not doing the worst. I’ve not been sleeping well and I think it’s culminating today so slightly early update post just in case I fall asleep early tonight. I’ve had on and off moodiness and flareups but not a whole lot of surgery sickness, hoping next week will be the same. I think this week was a lot of semester stress, which makes it hard to take care of myself. I just ate three applesauces and next week is spring break, so I should have a bit of breathing room for more art stuff. Just in time for my art block to maybe be giving way. All I gotta do is get caught up on sleep, which I’ll try to start tonight.

So I’ve been trying to put more brain power into actual Oc story writing stuff this week. I have the little comic I’m working on in the background and that’s going a bit slower than I’d like but I’m still making progress and reviewing over it there’s fewer older pages needing redo than I’d thought. I’m also now officially through the second act of the episode/chapter/ w/e, so the third should move smoothly. Scenes are flowing nicer than I thought they would, generally going pretty good.

I also finally think my animation art block is giving way. Clip studio is good for flowier animation so I’d like to combine it with flash for any actual big animation projects I try to pick up but on it’s own it’s fine for smaller ones. I might do some more sketch style test animations for unfamiliar movements, and eventually I’ll need to do a test for one with lineart and color layers. The interface is not user friendly at all but I did figure out how to do it the way I had wanted. Not planning on doing any shaded animations though, shading will have to be done with after effects somehow. I’ll round up ideas for test animations tonight because I’m very headfoggy today so I doubt I’ll be able to throw music together.

I’ll definitely do a quick little gif for the bigger song I finished, I’ll try to get going on the next one, but for the time being I might finish up some half baked covers. I’ve fiddled with vocaloid more now, have two half finished vocal parts I’m using to test out how the English and Japanese banks work with English songs. Japanese bank is working better than I thought, but it’s annoying having to play with the dynamic and exciter settings for certain consonants, and the limited vowel selection also sucks, but it’s not like the English banks have basically the same issues too. I just need to play with settings a bit more, finish writing out the vocal parts (should basically be copy paste at this point, I’m already through one chorus of each), and throw together instrumentals to go with them, but I picked songs with simple instrumentals anyway, so it shouldn’t be too hard to get a skeletal structure ready, then I can fill it in with piano or violin because I can’t go two songs without either I’m addicted.

Music comic and animation are the main things I did this week but I am slowly getting my updated commission sheet together. I’ll probably start timing myself on smaller songs so I can try to add music options properly. Animation comms would be nice too but that’ll definitely be a ways off.

I did make unexpected progress writing an epithet TTRPG campaign, it’s like mostly structured, but maps minis and some encounters still need to get written. I might sit down to do that over break. I’m more certain now that I’ll need to take people online as players but I’ll wait until I’m closer to run before I make a google form for that

I’m going to try to either spend tonight with friends or go to bed early or both. I’m a bit worried about my body because flareups have been getting bad but tomorrow I don’t have to move my legs at all beyond doing laundry so I should be fine. If plans for both fall through I’ll either watch a movie or cartoon (I don’t do very often but if I indulge in media I can improve my writing skills) or draw or both. Tomorrow is walled off for homework though I don’t think I’ll be able to do much else.

[border-spam]

Leech Lord: Allies

Troy

Gar is about as native as a Pandoran can get, and has for years had a very soft spot for the bratty King.

He's old colonist, thinks his parents might have been with Atlas on one of the many failed corporate town setups that plagued Pandora 30-ish years ago. He was too young to remember who's banner they flew under when his family stepped out of the shuttle and onto the dust planes they’d been instructed to settle, just that things went wrong fast and anyone still alive 18 months later had needed to adapt quickly to what constitutes living on this planet.

He was drawn to the Holy City for the same reasons as most survivalists, it was an opportunity for safety and a roof over your head. Not needing to fight to eat or scrabble to stay alive is a blessing for most Pandorans, and he's one of the thousands who live within the walls who don't quite worship the twins as Gods, but praise them as holy... because the twins gave them a chance to have a home. Wether they are deities or not isn't a factor in the loyalty they've’ earned.

He's skilled with food. Knows how to spice spoiled flesh to hide the rot, pickle cactus root and delicate rock blossoms for long storage, or how long rakk wing needs to be slow roasted to turn from gamey string to meat that melts in the mouth.

Like most in the HC, he ended up where his skills have value and has ran the kitchens in the Grand Cathedral since its founding bricks were set.

It didn't take very long for him to find Troy in it one night - picking through ingredients and half finished dishes in the early AM.

While he'd expected to need to drop to his knees and grovel, the God King had seemed more embarrassed than anything, awkwardly explaining he hadn't eaten that day and asking if there was anything left from the after sermon banquet. 

His eager politeness had hit Gar hard, but his reaction to finding out the leftovers had been destroyed was what left a lasting impression.

Gar had thought the twins affluent spoiled little shits who'd hit things lucky on Pandora and been clever enough to know how to use their wealth to culture worship, so when Troy was genuinely upset to the point of disgust that food had been wasted like that? It changed his perception immediately.

This wasn't the reaction of some egotistical little shitbag from a wealthy background, this was the visceral panic and anger of someone who'd starved before, who understood the insult of food being destroyed when there were so many hungry... when he'd known hunger.

It took less than 24 hours for the kitchen policies to be changed and Gar's team to find out nothing was to be wasted. Uneaten and unused stock was to be transported at end of day to the Slums from now on, where it would "Bolster the flesh of the faithful."

Every time he finds Troy hunting through his kitchen at 4 am over the years, their chats grow a little longer.

By late COV, Gar's meals delivered to his sanctum are some of the only things God King Calypso still trusts enough to eat.

Tyreen

Xanshi Ur-Vendit is obsessed with the God Queen.

As her Saint of Marketing, he's got both her ear and a position of high authority within the organisation that he covets viciously, and takes great personal offense towards newer Saints he doesn't deem worthy of the title.

His pedigree speaks for itself, the man had quite a reputation on Promethea among the media departments of the high corporations. An expertly trained and cut-throat money maker that was the exact kind of egotistical, nasty piece of work that would be drawn to the God Queen's side.

Has direct tie in's with the esteemed Katagawa family, something he's used to his benefit throughout his career.

He fawns over her, she can do no wrong around him, and he spends as many hours of the day as he can trailing behind her heels like a lapdog, reaffirming her beauty and intelligence and infallibility with every breath he can manage between the underhanded threats he aims towards anyone possibly about to draw her attention away from him.

Hates Troy. Fucking hates him.

Too much of a hole-sucking little coward in his $60k three piece suit to actually do anything about it of course, but he takes plenty of his vitriol out on Troy's departments instead.

Marketing has such massive reach within the internal structure of the COV that he's able to throw his weight around far more than some of her other Saints, and regardless of if they actually like him, they tend to back Xan and his opinions automatically.

A huge amount of the conflict between departments and heads is driven by this imagined competitiveness, that Troy's people, Troy's chosen, must in some way be inferior to Tyreen's.

Xan is her right hand in his own mind, he's her holy knight. If she holds too much misplaced love for her brother to see how pathetic he is in comparison to her radiance, then it's up to Xan to keep Troy's people in place...

In reality? Tyreen isn't even invested in him enough to remember Xanshi's full name.

Seifa

Sei makes friends in low places far easier than higher ones, always has. People at the bottom of the ladder, folks who have struggled? They recognise each other. Doesn't matter where on the scales they currently stand, there's an unspoken nod, a side glance. You see your own - even if who you are has been lucky enough to change over time.

While she's never been in one place long enough to set up a friend network before that was tangible and not based on e-comms and data feeds, she's woven one since settling in the HC without really even noticing it was happening.

One-hand Jim in the King's Call, that high end rave bar near the cathedral grounds. Not so gruff now he's not drowning in debt, few more smiles while he's mixing cocktails.

Cleo in munitions stocks, breathing a bit easier since her son landed that underling role in the Mechanica, more food on the table with less worry.

Feliz and Irgo running deals in the western slum backstreets. Not competing against the HammerClaws for territory anymore since JK "got wind" of the shit they were cutting their gear with and had Vanguard waiting at their quarters for a polite discussion about unspoken laws. What Fe and Iggy are selling isn't exactly high quality but at least it won't rot your brain inside the skull.

Sei will tell you she's a lone wolf. She'll insist she’s a one woman show, runs shit on her own and doesn’t need others.

But watch closely when out with her in the city, check how often she buys a drink, how often it's not on an invisible tab the barstaff nod knowingly about as they hand her glass over with a smirk.

She's never asked to pay.

That should tell you plenty.

Seifa and Tyreen

- Early COV

"Ty, you ever wish you were born a guy?"

Of all the things Tyreen had expected to hear from Sei tonight, that... wasn’t it. She stopped reading the same piece of nonsensical math in the sheet she was holding to gawk at Seifa instead, staring at the other woman’s back as she continued to work on the data records they'd been passing between them all evening.

"No.. god. What, and look like Troy?" she snorted with a wince. "Nooooo thanks" Ty sighed as she leaned back and heard her stiff spine pop, waiting for a response that didn't come. She felt a pang of concern as Sei's shoulders sank a little lower in front of her, deflating.

This wasn’t normal, where was the bitchy retort, or joining in on insulting her brother? She shuffled together the files and stood, walking to her friend's side and sitting slowly next to her in the quiet of the twin's shared office. Sei still hadn’t responded, pretending to be completely absorbed by the notes she stared at. Ty cleared her throat with a cough.

"Uhhh.. why?"

Seifa silently reached to her side to take the offered files from Ty as she sat, pointedly not making eye contact, though the younger woman picked up on the redness in them easily enough.

"Sei, I need to have someone's hands cut off?" 

Ty pouted, hitting her mark as Seifa failed to completely hide a smirk in response.

"I need to have someone thrown into a pit? Huh? C'mon Sei, talk to me. You always tell me I need to talk more about things that me down, right?" she weedled, hands clasped over her heart as she faux whined, earning a quiet laugh from her companion.

"Oh god Tyreen SURE, if you'll shutup." Sei groaned, leaning back in her chair and running hands over her eyes. She was tired. Beyond tired, really. Always said she knew how to not outstay her welcome but had been wondering recently if that had ever been true. Day to day in the cult, managing people she’d never meet and holding the weight of more responsibility than she’d ever wanted was eating at her. Had been for some time. Nights like this helped, shooting shit with Tyreen, bitching, sometimes gently bullying Troy together if he’d decided to grace them with his janky presence, but still.. it was heavy, and Seifa was tired. 

"Ahh.. just the usual shit" she whispered, thumbing through the papers as Tyreen leaned a little closer, as much of a comforting presence as she could muster all things considered. An arm around the shoulder or gentle stroke of hair wasn’t an option. All Ty had was words and honestly, they weren’t exactly her forte.

“It's just like. Sometimes when I'm talking, and it's about something they think I shouldn't know shit about, like how Burgess is spending too much of your budget on expensive, low grade gear-assemblies when if we went off brand I can prove it would be better, they just zone out."

"It's like.. if they thought I had a cock, if I was 6'4, they'd be listening. " she added, eyes burning again.

She groaned, leaning over the table and resting her cheek across her folded arms.

"I got so angry. I'm used to dealing with it, it's always happened, but I just boiled over. This week has been.. long, I guess." she whispered, pinching the bridge of her nose as Tyreen watched quietly. "I ate into him in front of like, 6 other people Ty, couple of heads were there. That doesn't help my reputation does it.. that's just making shit worse. I'm sabotaging myself. They think I'm a bitch already without me starting a fight and stirring the pot."

Tyreen shifted in her seat, eyes thoughtful as she rested her chin in her hands, elbow propped on the table edge.

"Nah. "

"Just sounds like they're dumb. I keep telling Troy we need people with actual brains leading this shit Sei, if you're getting ignored cause you have tits? Haha. Wait till they meet me in person. " she grinned, a genuine act peeking through her usual haughty persona as Seifa chuckled.

"I mean my rack is way bigger than yours, you're flat as a fuckin' plank in comparison."

Asks are Open!

[nofomoartworld]

Art F City: Highlights, and a Sad Observation, From MICA’s Commencement Exhibition

Ceramics by Keli Beth Smith.

As a rule, we don’t generally discuss student work on the blog. There are plenty of reasons for this, but for me, one is simple: I am forever grateful no one from the art press ever saw the terrible work I was struggling through in art school.

Yet nearly every Spring, I am impressed by commencement exhibitions—how is it possible that so many college seniors have their shit together more than so many grown-ass artists? Thesis shows at Maryland Institute College of Art (MICA), my old alma mater, tend to be particularly polished and worthwhile.

This year, though, has been a rough one for students nationally. I can’t imagine dealing with Trump’s election in the Fall and inauguration at the start of the Spring semester, all while trying to figure out what the hell you’re doing with your last year of art school. So much work looks like students just gave up hope halfway through a concept—as if a collective trauma had left everyone dispirited and unable to focus. We at AFC can certainly sympathize. The situation is fucking unfair.

That’s why this year we’re covering the MICA commencement show, which closes today (go see it if you’re in Baltimore!). Although it’s overall less enthusiastic and high-caliber than years past, those who persevered through the crisis and turned it out deserve recognition. It’s worth noting that the sprawling show could, in general, benefit from some outside curatorial advice. 

Below, the stand-out highlights from the class of 2017. If they can survive pulling-off thesis projects this good in spite of (and often in reference to) the apocalypse, the art world will be a cakewalk:

Chas Druin

Chas Druin’s work in the Gateway Building stands out for several reasons. It’s one of the best strategies for displaying garments I’ve seen employed here—they take on an eerie, vaguely sinister presence that complements the work’s dystopic vibe. The individual pieces recall military or ritualistic uniforms that have been deconstructed and reconstructed into odd forms that would fit awkwardly on typical bodies. One form, which might be a peacoat re-tooled into some sort of protective suit for radiation, looms menacingly over a more feminine (but still gender ambiguous) ensemble. This collection is what Comme des Garçons costumes for The Handmaid’s Tale would look like, one of many reasons it feels timely.

“Family Portrait” installation view, featuring A.F. Oehmke and Emily Walla.

Tucked away in an upper studio of the Fox Building, A.F. Oehmke and Emily Walla’s collaborative installation makes the overhung gauntlet in the rest of the building worth it. Walla’s sculptures reference impractical midcentury modern furniture. They’re flawlessly crafted, but suggest fragility and an uncomfortable domestic sphere—this is a precarious home where inhabitants and visitors must walk on eggshells. The only splashes of color are a few sparse houseplants and tabloids (“Our Catastrophe”) from A.F. Oehmke scattered on several of Walla’s pieces. “Our Catastrophe” has headlines such as “SHIT’S FUCKED UP!” and “ARE WE ALL BECOMING KIM?!?!?!?!?!?! JERRY SALTZ WEIGHS IN!” The decline of Western Civilization, indeed.

Trevor Blauth, “Epitaph,” installation view.

Trevor Blauth’s Epitaph was one of the first rooms I encountered in the Station Building, and perhaps became the high standard by which I considered all subsequent shows. The installation has an immersive quality that speaks to the remarkably high production value. And like most of this year’s highlights, it’s fraught with anxiety. The gallery is full of sod, with industrial-looking wishing wells (one of which holds a Fiji water bottle floating in dirty water) and a full-scale greenhouse. In the greenhouse, an old TV displays a video game avatar waiting endlessly on a futuristic subway platform. There’s no controller, so the viewer just watches the back of the protagonist as background characters pass him by. Scattered around the gallery, burnt pieces of paper display tiny text, such as “I think happiness is what makes you pretty. Period. Happy people are beautiful. They become like a mirror and they reflect that happiness.” It’s not mentioned in the text, but it’s a quote from Drew Barrymore, the artist whispered to me.

Reece Cox, “Acids in the Style of Phineas Gauge”

Down the hall, Reece Cox’s “Acids in the Style of Phineas Gauge” would be easy to miss if it weren’t for its rumbling soundtrack. Thankfully, it drew me in. It’s one of the most understated but oddly rewarding installations. The artist has replaced all the fluorescent bulbs in a grim conference room with lime green lights. They match the color of sunlight trickling through the tree canopy of the overgrown train tracks outside perfectly—extending the surreal quasi-urban/quasi-wild outdoors into the institutional space. As if to remind the viewer of the room’s usual lighting, a haphazard strand of LEDs flashes occasionally in synch with Cox’s droning music. It’s strangely elegant in its simplicity and honesty (the four speakers are visible, no effort is made to clean up the cords, and the whiteness of the simple light tube references the artifice of the intervention).

Alison Baskerville. “Turf War”.

Of all the vaguely post-apocalyptic work in this year’s commencement show, Alison Baskerville’s Turf War feels the most fun. Her space is littered with technicolor garments that include Balaclavas with slogans such as “HOLLYWASTE” and “CHESTCOAST”. A monitor displays a strange, ritualistic fight club that’s somewhere between lucha libre, a fashion show, and worldstarhiphop.com brawls.

This is the suburban nightmare of the not-so-distant future—if Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome predicted leather would outlast civil society, Baskerville seems to argue it would be synthetic weave, faux-fur, plastic sequins, and all the dayglo vinyl and polyester fabrics that go on sale after Halloween.

Keli Beth Smith, “Slam Pig”.

In the adjoining gallery, Keli Beth Smith’s ceramic pieces get a nod for their versatility and demonstration of mastery over the craft. These include her fetish formal china (top of the page) and figurative sculptures such as “Slam Pig,” in which two golden figures lay on an animal hide masturbating facing away from each other. I should mention that masturbation is a recurring motif across every discipline this year. I suppose that’s one tried-and-true strategy for stress management? At any rate, these ceramic figures are a little unsettling due to their size—they’re proportioned like adults, but scaled to be the height of children. These wouldn’t look out of place in a blue-chip gallery.

Will Staub

I have a soft spot for Will Staub’s takeover of the Gateway Building’s cafe, largely because I once worked for the school’s food services company, and he certainly interrupts the monotony of that post. Staub repackaged the instant food items for sale, so that Goya blackbeans now come in a breakfast-cereal-proportioned box or Chicken of the Sea tuna can come in a potato chip bag (gross). All of the labels have a strange warped quality, as if they had been scanned from their original packages and then reformatted to other shapes regardless of their dimensions. When we visited, the cafe was closed, but an instruction sheet provided for employees filled us in. Everything is for sale, including regular menu items which would be covered with a red dot once ordered. His items, however, can presumably be restocked. Bagged goods cost $10 and boxes $20. That’s a little steep for campus food options (just slightly, sadly), but a damned bargain for an art object (consider Gabriel Orozco’s collection of $30,000 convenience store products, rigged to depreciate with an economy of scale). This feels like a sounder investment.

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