#360 emotions fr

[original-punks]

i either hyperfixate or disassociate

there's no inbetween

#either giving too much or none at all #360 emotions fr #overwhelming at times #im hyperfixating again #watch me vanish then pop back up like nothing changed #disassociation #hyperfixation #text post #personal #original-punks

[springdandelixn]

Best Man - Chapter 3 (ScarletVision Fanfiction | AU )

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18897565/chapters/44942155#workskin

Fr: Vizh I was wondering if I can be the one to ask you out to dinner this time. Tonight at 7 perhaps? Wherever you are, I’ll be there to pick you up.

Wanda could feel an entire zoo running around in her stomach as she repeatedly read the message on her phone. The smile on her face was undeniably big, surprise and happy meshed in one emotion.

Ever since the wedding, since meeting Vision, she felt her world take a 360 degree turn. And for once in her life, everything in the world seemed right. She’d only been talking to him for less than two weeks and it has only been three days since their last date, which was also the first. But everything about Vision and everything about talking to him or the idea of being with him was absolutely perfect.

As she walked towards her apartment, she couldn’t stop herself from replaying the moment they had on the steps of her building. She has mentally and emotionally noted that that spot was officially one of her favorite spots in New York. No. In the world.

Fingers intertwined, a few smiles and laughs exchanged, Vision and Wanda made their way out of Stark Tower, Vision’s car waiting for them at the front. Wanda could still feel her heart racing from the events earlier. How her boldness came out out of nowhere, resulting to them sharing their first kiss. She thought he would be awkward. Thought that he would reject him. But everything she feared off and all of her worries disappeared as soon as their lips touched.

Vision was now on the wheel, Wanda by his side as they sat in comfortable silence. A few facts about each other were exchanged like how Vision originally wanted to have a career in music rather than a career in computer and science, but everything shifted when he saw his adoptive mother’s workplace for the first time, amazed at the excitment it briught him and he wanted to have a lab coat of his own. And how Wanda has a deep fascination for human behavior, thus her choosing to study psychology.

“When are you graduating?” Vision asked, his eyes glancing at Wanda before turning his attention back on the road.

“In 2 months. Then I’m officially free. Though I am technically free now since classes and exams are over.” She smiled at the thought, her fingers fidgeting on her lap.

The drive wasn’t long for them to reach her apartment. Vision was quite worried if her apartment was safe now that she’s living alone since Natasha had already moved in with Bruce. But she assured him that her neighborhood and her building was a safe place and that he need not worry for any incidents to happen.

As they headed towards the front door of the building, both Vision and Wanda stood in silence. The sun was already about to rise but neither seemed ready to say goodbye. But all good things do come to an end as Wanda broke their peace.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay and rest up a bit?” She offered once more.

Vision smiled and stepped closer to Wanda, his hand reaching for her’s and lifting it up to his lips to press a soft kiss on her knuckles. “As much as I want to, I have to get back to the office.” A sad smile formed on his lips. “But I promise to make it up to you.”

Taking her hand back, Wanda took one step up on the stairs of her apartment building so that she and Vision would somehow be at eye level. She then moved her arms and wrapped it around his neck, causing him to move closer, his arms instantly wrapping around her waist. Both were truly amazed how at ease they already were with each other. Any awkwardness and shyness they felt at that moment suddenly vanished into thin air.

“Make it up to me huh? Would you come to my graduation then? I would be really happy if you would be there.”

“I would be very delighted to be there on your special day.” And Wanda felt her heart melt as Vision did his megawatt, full teeth showing grin. “I would never miss it for the world.”

They shared another kiss, this time soft and sweet before they parted ways, both heading back to their respective lonely tower.

It has been 3 days since their first date and Wanda was really excited for their second one. She secretly hoped that this time there wouldn't be any more distractions to surface. Not that she didn't enjoy watching him work that night, but she was hoping that she could possibly have more time to connect with him.

After agreeing to his request and texting him that she will wait for him at her apartment, Wanda immediately ran to her closet, rummaging through every presentable dress she could find. This was dinner. Dinner with Vision. And wearing pants was not an option.

Laying down the choices she made on her bed, she grabbed her phone and decided to face time Natasha. She wasn't sure she would pick up considering she was on her honeymoon in Maldives but it was still worth a shot. Only Natasha can help her in this wardrobe crisis.

"Do you have any idea what time it is here? This better be an emergency." Natasha teased before squealing on the phone when she saw Wanda’s face on the screen. "God.. I already miss you, Wanda. I already miss the apartment. I am so happy you called."

"I'm sure you're just saying that." Wanda rolled her eyes before mirroring Natasha’s happy smile.. "But how's Maldives? How's Bruce?" Happiness was evident in her voice.

“He’s asleep. He just finished talking with his boyfriends and it seems they had an intense heart to heart.” Natasha was laughing, looking to where Bruce was from time to time, making sure she didn’t wake him up. “So what made you call? Is there really an emergency?”

“Well, it’s a wardrobe emergency and I need your help.” Moving her phone, switching the view to rear camera, she showed Natasha the mess in her room and the dresses on her bed.

Three sunday dresses were on the bed, spread out to show each and every detail it has to offer. First was a navy blue crochet dress that hung just 2 inches above the knees. Second was an apricot floral skater dress with a belt that would give emphasis on her small waist. And last was a red dress with sleeves that end just 2 inches above the wrists, the hem ending just above the knees.

Wanda really wanted to make a good and lasting impression on Vision. Just the thought of him not wanting to see her anymore made her stomach turn and her heart clench in pain. As she laid her eyes on the dresses, waiting for Natasha to give her opinion, she made a silent prayer that whatever outfit she would end up in, Vision would find her beautiful.

“Knowing Vision, he likes his girls simple.” Natasha commented, making Wanda’s face red like a tomato.

“Vision?” Surprise surrounding her voice. “W-What do you mean Vision?”

Rolling her eyes, Natasha laughed loudly, making Bruce groan from the sound. “I just told you, Bruce just ended a call from Tony and Vision. And the news about you and Vision seeing each other is already here in Maldives.”

Wanda felt her body temperature rise, instinctively fanning herself, not knowing if she should be embarrassed or happy that Vision talks about her.

“And I’m assuming that you’re seeing him later hence the choices of clothes.” Natasha said a matter of fact. “And like I said, knowing Vision, he likes his girls simple so I say, blue dress. Plus, he’ll get to see more of your skin.” A smirk formed on her lips.

Sighing in defeat, Wanda nodded in agreement to what Natasha said, looking at her from her phone, a pout already on her lips. “You’re a hundred percent sure that he would like this? I really want to impress him, Nat. On our last date, which was our first date, I was wearing a shirt and jeans. I don’t want him to think that-”

“He won’t think anything bad about you, silly.” Natasha laughed, amused by how love struck her best friend sounded. “Vision is not a person who judges people base on what they wear. And base from what he told me, he adores you. And even if you wore a freakin’ potato sack, he’d still adore you.”

Wanda’s mouth fell open upon hearing the words Natasha told her. At the back of her head, she wished that Vision told her these things himself but hearing them now from one of the people she trusts was second best. She knew Natasha wouldn’t lie to her and keep her hopes up. Natasha wasn’t that shallow.

Taking the navy blue dress, Wanda pressed it against her body and showed Natasha what she would possibly look like.

“You look like a goddess.” Natasha chuckled. “Now go and shower and take a photo of your final form. I want to see what my girl looks like.”

“I will.” Wanda’s voice was now calm, all her worries leaving the apartment.

After a couple of goodbyes and agreements to showing photos of the Maldives trip and the date, they ended the call and Wanda rushed to the bathroom to take her warm shower when she saw that it was already 5:30PM.

Wanda just finished doing her hair and make up as she stood in front of the mirror to look at her ‘final form’. She settled with giving her hair soft curls, allowing her strawberry blonde locks to hang comfortably on her shoulders and down the sides of her bust. As for her make up, she kept it simple. Mascara, eyeliner, lipstick and little blush on to put some color on her pale cheeks.

She imagined how the night would go. Vision never told her where they were going for dinner. A sudden thought that she might be overdressed or under dressed for the evening, anxiety slowly creeping in. Not wanting to ruin the evening, she shook her head to clear her mind from any negative thoughts, repeating to herself what Natasha had told her over the phone. He adores you. He adores you. Vision adores you.

The buzz on her door cut her off from her reverie, feeling her heart bounce all around her chest. It must be Vision. It had to be him. No one ever visits her apartment unless it was either Bruce to visit Natasha or their landlord. A sudden impulse made her check the bill that was hanging on her fridge, a breath of relief leaving her lips when she saw that she was up to date with her payment.

Pressing the button on the intercom, she smiled widely when she saw Vision on the black and white screen. He was in a casual suit. Button up shirt with two buttons undone, revealing a part of his chest, a coat, a scarf tucked around his neck and his glasses that she loved on him.

“Come on up.” She said over the intercom and buzzed him in her apartment.

Wanda was already waiting by her door when she heard the knock. She took steady breaths to help herself calm down, opening the door on the second knock.

Seeing Vision now in full color was indeed a sight to behold. His coat and scarf was navy blue, almost the same shade as her dress and he was in slim fit jeans that gave emphasis on his long legs. And his smile, he was sporting his shy smile that tugged a special place in her heart.

“You look absolutely stunning.” Vision said, holding out a bouquet of red and white roses which transports her back to the wedding. “For you, Wanda.”

Upon taking the bouquet from his hold, Wanda’s body suddenly froze when she suddenly felt Vision’s lips press softly against her cheek. She felt her knees tremble. Felt her soul slowly seeping out of her body from the sudden action. Not knowing what to do, she covered her face with the bouquet and dashed towards the kitchen, leaving Vision stunned by the doorway.

“Please make yourself at home. I’ll just put these in a vase.” She said in a hurry, opening a cupboard and darting her face inside, trying once again to calm her breathing. Relax, Wanda. Relax. It was just a kiss on the cheek. You’ve already kissed him on the lips. This shouldn’t be something to fret about. Once she got her thoughts back on track, she took out a vase, filling it half way with water and carefully placed the flowers inside of it, setting it over the kitchen counter.

Her eyes then landed on Vision who was now by the kitchen counter, his eyes locked on her but with worry wrapped around it.

“Wanda, I didn’t mean to overstep. I-I just assumed t-that..” He was stuttering. And as Wanda remembered, he’s nervous when he stutters. “I’m sorry, Wanda.”

Feeling guilt surround her system, Wanda moved to stand over to where Vision was, her arms wrapping around his waist and resting her head against his chest. “Please don’t apologize, Vizh. You did nothing wrong. I guess I’m still shy around you.” She turned her head and rested her chin against his chest, looking up at him. “It’s still surreal to me that you want to go to dinner with me.”

“Of course I’d want to.” A smile forms on Vision’s lips as he moves his arms to wrap it around her small frame. “It’s surreal to me that you said yes. I mean, I’m a big nerd.”

“And you’re the nerd I want to have dinner with.” Standing on the tips of her toes, Wanda leaned up and softly pressed her lips against his, both their arms holding each other tight.

Vision’s hand was holding Wanda’s when they arrived at the pier. The cool breeze of spring evening brushing against her cheeks and legs. Good thing she remembered to bring a coat before they left the apartment and she was thankful that Vision was holding her hand, helping to keep her warm.

They soon arrived to a lone yacht docked on the pier. Wanda’s eyebrows suddenly shot up, a chuckle leaving her lips when she saw the name printed on the side of the vessel. STARK III. She caught Vision looking down at her, giving her a knowing shrug as he lead her towards the steps of the boat.

“So Tony is sponsoring our date?” She asked as soon as both of them got on the yacht, a butler leading them towards the set table.

“Let’s just say I owe him big for lending me his yacht.” He chuckled, stopping the server from pulling out the chair for Wanda, pulling it himself instead and taking off her coat, hanging it on the back of her seat.

“How big is big?” She pushes.

Taking a seat opposite from her, Vision took off his scarf and hung it on the back of his seat. “Big meaning I have to attend all the meetings of Stark Industries on his behalf for a whole month. And the monthly meetings he attend are no joke.”

“Wine, Sir?” Their server, Peter, appeared in the middle of their conversation, holding up a bottle of white wine.

Nodding at the offer, Peter filled their wine glasses as well as their glasses for water and enumerated their menu in a professional manner. Chicken Quesadilla with Salsa and Guacamole for starters, Chili Prawn Linguine and Cheese Garlic Bread for the main course and for dessert, a Chocolate and Raspberry Lava Cake.

Wanda felt her stomach rumble as each food items was mentioned, taking a tentative sip of her water in an attempt to appease her hunger. A delightful smile then formed on her lips as Vision asked  him to serve the starters.

"Wait.." Wanda stopped Peter from his tracks and held out her phone to him. "Can you take a photo of us?" She asked politely and looked at Vision, preparing her explanation. "I promised Nat a photo. I hope you don't mind."

Vision smiled and shook his head, smiling at the direction of Peter. Once the photo was taken, they both scanned it, nodding in approval of the outcome. "Please give my regards to Natasha when you make contact with her again."

The yacht began to take its course, gliding over the water as the couple began eating their meal. The spring breeze began blowing once again, causing Wanda to shiver slightly as the wind made contact with her skin. Vision then called out Peter to turn on the heater in the yacht and stood up only to drape her coat back on her shoulders.

As she expected, their evening was a spectacle. Eating delicious food, drinking delicious wine and basking in the presence of such a wonderful man all happening at once was something she never expected to happen in her life. What she also never expected was a dinner in a private yacht. All she had in her mind was that they were going back to the cute italian restaurant they first had their date and taste the other pizza flavors she wanted to try. But this definitely took the cake of ‘Best Date’.

As she sipped her wine and twirled her fork on the linguine, she gave her full attention to Vision as he talked, sharing stories about his childhood and his work. Wanda couldn't help herself but fall into a daze every once in a while. Admiring the work of art that is the man before her. How his eyes are clear pools of blue, gleaming with knowledge and curiosity at the same time. The way it involuntarily winks whenever he starts talking something he is passionate about. How beautiful his nose was that all she wanted to do was press soft kiss on the bridge of it. How plump his lips look, making her want to press hers against his one more time.

Her thoughts were then disturbed when Vision began asking her about herself, which she willingly shared with him. As she was going on about her childhood, she felt her heart clench as memories of her biological family and her twin brother came to the surface.

"Pietro and I were only 10 when we lost our parents during the Sokovian war. A bomb fell on the roof our building, immediately ending our parents life. Pietro and I were fortunate because we were at a shelter when the tragedy happened." Her fingers tightened into a fist as she fought the threatening tears that were pooling in her eyes.

Soft hands then enveloped her fist, causing her to look up at the owner. "You don't have to tell me, Wanda. I won't force you into telling me."

"It's okay." A sad smile appeared on her face, her other hand reaching up to wipe the tears from her eyes. "I want to tell you. This is therapy in a way. So that I can finally fully accept what has happened."

Wanda looked down once again at her clenched fist that Vision held, slowly loosening her fingers, allowing Vision to continue holding it. The sensation of his hand enveloping hers, his thumb gently caressing her knuckles sent waves of calmness throughout her system.

"Pietro and I were then taken by the Sokovian Army to safety. We were then brought to an orphanage along with a hundred children, and you can imagine the chaos there. When the orphanage couldn't take care of us anymore, we were moved to another and another until the government intervened and sent us to America. We were already 13 that time."

Wanda then took a deep breath, reaching up once more to wipe her tears that started rolling down her cheeks but was stopped when she felt a hand cupping her face, Vision's thumb brushing it away.

"We were put into the system when we arrived. Each foster home we moved into never accepted us. They never hurt us physically but they made us feel unwanted just because we came from a place full of chaos. They always thought that we would bring them chaos too." Her voice suddenly broke as the memories of Pietro began to resurface.

Vision stood up and moved his chair beside Wanda's. His arms wrapping around her small frame, almost cradling her as his hand presses against the small of her back and the other rubbing against her in a comforting manner.

Wanda couldn't control her emotions any longer and broke down in front of Vision. She just couldn't bring to herself that her twin is already gone. That the one person who understood her and stuck by her through everything she has been through has been taken away.

The tears wouldn't stop no matter how hard she tried. She shut her eyes tight and moved her hands to clutch tightly on Vision, fighting back her panic attack. She couldn't have that here. Not in front of him. She wouldn't allow herself to ruin such a beautiful evening just because of her own problems. She began inhaling and exhaling at a slow pace, mentally counting down from 20 to 0 just as the therapist at the hospital she works at taught her.

"When you feel yourself about to have a panic attack, no matter where you are, just close your eyes, sit if you must and count down from 20 to 0 while inhaling and exhaling deeply and slowly. Divert your thoughts that caused the attack into something that you love. Think of your goals. Think of your happiness. Think of it hard and concentrate. And once you've reached 0, you'll be feeling much better."

Wanda began pushing the dark thoughts back into the abyss in her head and brought out the thoughts that made her extremely happy. 20.. 19.. 18.. Her graduation.. 17.. 16.. 15.. 14.. Natasha and Bruce and the Bartons.. 13.. 12.. 11.. 10.. The kind patients at the hospital.. 9.. 8.. 7.. Meeting Vision.. 6.. 5.. 4.. 3.. Their first date.. 2.. 1.. Vision.

Slowly, she opened her eyes and right in front of her was Vision. Her source of happiness. His eyes were clouded with worry and sadness as he looked at her like a wounded puppy. Taking another deep breath, Wanda rolled her shoulders back and wiped the remaining tears on her eyes before offering an assuring smile to Vision.

"Wanda-"

"I'm fine now, Vizh. I'm fine." She repeated as she inhaled deeply once more. "I'm sorry you had to see that." Her voice fell and her head bent looking downward while her fingers fidgeted with the rings on her fingers. "I'm really sorry."

"Please don't apologize, Wanda." His smile was sad but it was still a smile to which Wanda was relieved. "That's perfectly fine and you should never think that you should apologize for feeling your feelings." His hand then caressed her cheek then she felt his lips pressing on her forehead. The act alone making her tensed body ease up once again. “Cry if you must. Get angry if you must. Let it all out so that you’d feel relief soon after.”

Vision didn’t go back to his original seat. Instead, he took his plate and his glasses of wine and water, placing it to where he now sat, beside her, and lifted his wine towards Wanda, a smile now on his face. "Do you want to hear the time Tony almost blew up the whole school?"

And just like that, the tension surrounding the yacht disappeared as Vision started telling humiliating stories of Tony and Bruce back in their high school years.

Wanda was thankful for how Vision handled the situation. Her breaking down was one of her greatest fears. It has been years since Pietro passed and most people would tell her that she needs to move on. But moving on isn't that easy especially if you have to move on from someone that has been there even before you were born. She feared that Vision might see her in a different light once he knew her dark past. That he too would tell her to just ‘move on’ and not try to even understand a flicker of the emotions she was harboring. The constant thought that she was seen as a child of chaos bore into her mind, making herself shut out from everyone. Shut herself out from the world.

But when she met the Bartons and Natasha along with Bruce, she felt her walls slowly crumble around them. They were the few people that accepted her for who she truly was. The ones who accepted her pain and carried it with her. The ones who never questioned her feelings. The ones who just held her and allowed her to crash and breakdown into a million pieces. She thought that it would just be them she needed. She never thought of adding another name to the list of people she would trust. But she just added another and if she was being honest to herself, it was her favorite name of all.

As soon as dinner was finished, other staff of the STARK III came to clear their plates. To her recollection, their names were Drax, a buff, tall man with interesting tattoos all over his arms and a woman named Gamora who seemed like the mature one of the three as she scolded Peter and Drax who started making bets on who can make Vision give them the rest of the wine. To which Vision agreed in giving them the leftover wine and asking for a bottle of Muscat instead.

Once their glasses were filled, Vision lead Wanda towards the back of the boat where a leather couch was waiting for them. The couch was L-shaped, just like the one in Vision’s office but in a smaller scale. It was facing towards the water which gave them a beautiful view of the lights of New York reflecting on the ocean.

Vision placed his wine glass down at the side table, helping Wanda take her seat before he settles himself down beside her, crossing his legs and resting his arm at the back of the couch. Wanda then moved in her seat, scooting herself closer to Vision to which Vision noticed and scooted himself closer as well until their bodies were pressed against each other.

Wanda was confident now. Much more confident that whatever affection she gave Vision, it would be mirrored back. The kisses, the hugs and his words during their dinner assured her of it.

Once their bodies were comfortable with the closeness of one another, Wanda rested her head against Vision’s arm, tucking it on the crook of his neck to which he responded by holding onto her shoulder to keep her close.

“Tell me about your mom. What is Helen like?” Her voice was soft, her fingers rolling against the neck of the wine glass.

“Helen.” Vision says her name as if it was something sacred. “Well Helen is my hero. From what I remember, I was an orphan since I was born.” Vision cleared his throat which made Wanda look up at him. “I never knew who my birth parents were. I don’t even have anything to remember them except a card that had my name on it. I was in the orphanage my entire childhood. But the people who ran the place were kind. They schooled us and gave us access to their big library. That place was heaven to me. They clothed us and fed us and we would have field trips to the museums in London.” A sudden image of a young Vision reading a big book and traveling the city made Wanda smile.

“But the kids weren’t kind. They called me odd for choosing books over playing outside. They’d get my books and rip the pages in front me. And they would gang up on me and beat me up if I tried to fight back.” A chuckle escaped Vision’s lips but Wanda was not even slightly amused with it.

“Did they hurt you pretty bad? Broken bones? Cuts?” Her voice was quiet and laced with concern, her hand unconsciously rubbing against his side.

“Broken bones? I think an arm. The cuts were a regular though.” He started pointing to his eye, his eyebrow then his lip. "Along with the black eyes."

“What did the owners of the orphanage say when they saw you with a bleeding lip?” Wanda couldn't think of a reasonable explanation why the kids would beat him up for reading books. Then thought of even a bruise on Vision's face was very distastedist to Wanda.

“I told them I was being bullied and they decided that I should be moved to another room. But that didn't make any difference because we’d still see each other during the day and it’d repeat over again.” Vision was now frowning. To Wanda’s assessment, must be from the sudden out pour of memories.

“You don’t have to tell me more if it hurts.” Taking his hand in her, Wanda gave it a light squeeze before looking back up in his eyes.

“I’m fine, Wanda.” He kisses her knuckles as he says this, pressing the back of her hand against his cheek. “This is a story of how Helen rescued me. I will always be proud of it.”

Nodding her head, Vision resumed to his tale.

“I was being beaten up in an alley when I was 10. The same orphan boys saw me reading at the park and chased me. When they got to me, it was pretty much hell. Punches and kicks just came raining down. Then it stopped. I was hunched over the wall, I think my head was bleeding so I couldn't really see what was happening. Suddenly I felt gentle arms wrap around me and I was flipped over. Then I saw Helen's face and the first thing that came to mind was she was an angel.” A smile kissed his lips as he continued telling his story. Helen was indeed his angel.

“I was sent to the hospital and my bruises were treated. She was the one who looked after me the entire time I was there. She ate meals with me. Played games and she even read me story books and scientific facts. Her voice was the most comforting sound I have ever heard in my life. For the first time in my life, I felt the mother's love that I've been craving for.” He was now looking down at Wanda, their eyes meeting for a brief moment. “When she told me that I can already go back to the orphanage, my heart sank. I never wanted to go back. I only wanted to be where she was because I know that I will be safe when I'm with her."

"But I was eventually sent back. The boys never beat me up anymore but still, all I wanted was to go to Helen. After a week since I came back, the owners called me to a room and I was stunned when I saw Helen inside." Vision's voice broke but he quickly composed himself. "I ran to her and hugged her tight and she told me that she was going to adopt me. I cried so hard from happiness. I told her that I wanted to leave immediately. That I didn't want to stay any longer to which she agreed."

"I packed all my necessary stuff and my clothes in my bag and just stormed out of the room, my books in hand. And ever since then, life has been good. She let me read, she enrolled me to a real school in London, she let me do everything that I wanted. She gave me a new life."

“She must really be sent by the heavens then. It’s funny and amazing how your world can make a 360 degree turn just by meeting someone unexpected.”

“She is. She means everything to me.” He lifts her hand to his lips once more, his eyes never leaving hers. “Just like you.”

Wanda felt her heart stop. Her eyes growing bigger from what she just heard. The sudden shift of conversation shaking her to the core. She wanted to pinch herself just to make sure she wasn’t dreaming all of this. “What?” It was all she could say. It was all her brain could process.

“Wanda..” She watched Vision close his eyes, his lips tight as if stopping himself from saying anything. But as moments passed, he looked back at her, the emotions wrapping around his blue orbs giving her a sliver of hope. “I adore you, Wanda. Since the wedding, I could not stop thinking about you.” He cleared his throat and drank the contents of his wine in one go. “We started exchanging messages and phone calls and the hunger of being with you just grew stronger. I’m an extremely shy person so I apologize if I did not ask you out to dinner sooner.”

Wanda shook her head and chuckled at his apology, her hand curling more around his, anticipating every word he was about to say.

“I know this is just our second date and my work takes so much of my time. But I won’t be able to forgive myself if I even let this moment slip from my grasp.” He inhaled deeply and turned in his seat, having his body face fully towards Wanda. He then took both her hands in his, his thumbs caressing over her knuckles before facing her once more.

“Wanda Maximoff.. Will you do me the honor of being my girlfriend?”

Wanda wanted to take off from the boat and explode like a firework as soon as she heard the question. She couldn’t believe that he was asking her to be his girlfriend. That he adores her. The words of Natasha started circulating around her head, making her grin like an idiot. He adores you.

“Do I have to line up behind Tony and Bruce?” She asked with a snicker.

He snickered back, letting out a chuckle, giving Wanda’s hands a light tug. “What’s your answer, Wanda?”

Rolling her eyes, Wanda pulled her hands away from Vision’s hold and placed them on both sides of the man’s face. “Yes, Victor Shade.” She smiled upon saying his full name. “I, Wanda Maximoff, accept you to be my boyfriend. Though I will expect unlimited kisses, hugs and cuddles each time we are together.”

Grinning from ear to ear, Vision leans forward and presses a kiss on Wanda’s forehead. “Deal.”

The moon shined down brightly on them as they shared their first kiss as an official couple. Wanda couldn’t believe that she’s in a relationship with someone as perfect as Vision. He was smart, sweet, slightly old fashioned and very much a gentleman. It’s only been a couple of days but her emotions for him has been so strong since day one. It made her feel that Vision is her soulmate.

Arms wrapped around each other, the night breeze enveloping their beings, Rocket, who was the driver of the STARK III greeted them farewell along with Peter, Gamora and Drax as the yacht was brought back to the pier. Both Wanda and Vision thanked them for such an amazing experience, Vision making sure to tell Tony that they were taken good care by his crew.

Hand in hand, fingers intertwined with one another, they headed over back to Vision’s car.

“I think it’s time I took you home.” Vision chuckled.

Wanda remembered this question all to well, making her mirror Vision’s reaction. “Your place or mine?”

As they both got in the vehicle, Vision turned on the GPS and followed the directions back to Wanda’s apartment.

#vision #wanda maximoff #wanda x vision #visionwanda #scarletvision #scarlet witch #sv au #visionwanda au #right in my feels

[kunalkarankapoor]

Kunal Karan Kapoor I really don't know how many n what words I should use to tell you n show you my appreciation for your performance 👍👍👍👏👏👏👏👏👏👍👍 How do you manage to make every shot, every scene brilliantly perfect n memorable for us? I feel soo proud n honored that I am yourrrrrrr admirer ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️😘😘😘😘 Love you Kunal" - @priyark31

I really want to see Kunal's performance in person🤗What an amazing performance he did today👊🏻it was so beautiful to see that Kunal winked his eyes and he looked up and cried❣️His eyes speaks more than his words👀It was natural to see his nose and neck shrink and widen when he was angry🤩He smiled slightly as he showed his pain on his face it was anxious to watch☹️That he closed his eyes and kneeled down for Sanjana, how he feels about his beautiful moments with her💔The way he threw those earrings was beautiful ✨He nailed it as always 🖤💫🦋 - @im_gavi99

I want a 360 degree character change in Sid. ITS his pure heart n innocence that's putting him in trouble. Plz Sid don't b after Sanju. Se hs rebuked u number of times. But u stl kip cnfsng ur luv fr her. Somehow I don't like it.- Silver Moon

KUNAL KARAN KAPOOR BRILLIANCE ON SCREEN I so badly waited for a scene like this bcoz he nails it in every emotion. Sid G broke me. Edit Credits to Makers. - Annie

Is this the same character who used to make us laugh only a few episodes back? 😭 @kunalkarankapoor the way you switched from a carefree fun guy to completely emotional in such a short period of time is just fantastic 👏 you are the king of versatility ❤ I don't think there's any word in the dictionary that can actually justify how amazing your performance was in both the phases of Sid's character. The storyline may falter but your performance never fails to mesmerize us. You are magical ❤ You are truly the King of expressions. Am proud to stan you 😌 - My Happy Escape.

Dear Kunal It's one month of ZDMN. I could not believe it's already one month of Sid Ganju. From the very first day I'm trying to write up about Sid but I couldn't. But I think today is the best day to express my feelings for Sid Ganju. Honestly you make me speechless every time. Okay comes to the character you play as Sid. From the very first day you makes us realize what your character is. Really love every scene of yours. From your entry to today episode just mind blowing. I could not stop laughing on your entry. You really break all your previous character. It's so new & refresh which really makes us to think that you are the same person who gives us Varun, Angad yadav, Mohan Bhatnagar, Shaurya Krishna & Mohit. 

 1. Honestly every scene though it's his entry or meeting Monu on the road or convincing Monu's father or sitting on the couch eating ice-cream & forget about world or coming to SAF to find his Miss. Tattoo or the whole date things. 

2. Sid totally shows us how can a spoiled rich child can be. Though Sid is Rich Boy but totally kid from his heart. 

3. Really love how he came to the academy & sab k nak me dam karke rakhe the, & his love for Sanju 

 4. Then every scene of mummi ji & Sid which makes me laugh & also every one feels a pain on those scene. When Sid hug his mummy ji it's feels like Sid really longing for the hug. But when the truth comes out, the devastated face of them makes me cry. Each & every word said by mummy ji had a deep effect on Sid & breaks him totally. 

5. Now Sid & Monami OMG the best friendship goal. They both know each other, understand very well. Whether it's save Sid from his dad or worrying about Sid. 

6. Then whole jail sequence It's really makes me cry & see whole episodes with a lump on my throat. 

 7. But which steal my heart or wrench my heart is when Karan broke the pot of water & Sid just give a slight smile & then took the little broken pot and pour the little water on the glass. Me literally cries on that scene. Sid Bala bromance OMG 

8. Both are different in each & every way but  looks like the mirror of each other. I really love your eyes which speaks a lot & also your sharp nose & long messy hair. In onscreen when you cry, you made us cry. When you laugh you made us laugh. Your simplicity connect audience towards him. As Mohan says "simplicity me hi sundarta hay" Though this line said by Mohan but you in real life or reel life perfectly follow this. That's why we never feel that you act in a scene, it's so natural to us. Love you a lot. Your fan  Shreyashi

#kunal karan kapoor #actor #artist #zdfeedback

[apricot-to-rot]

Five Critical Profiles

stories that are forgotten

Research Contents

1 Statement of Intent

2 Laure Prouvost: Looking at the ways Provoust uses text as an informative tool to dictate an experience and create other worldly experiences of art in immersive tactile installations of Digging. Thus, finding lost parts whilst also becoming lost in the repetitiveness of doing:  What is so special about digging?

3 Joan Jonas- How can space be curated in a way that reflects an interconnected experience for ‘bodies’ {house, skins, peels, objects, words} to become part of spaces and thus in touch with the concept of temporal and spacial fragility: Experience within Perspective.

4 Visages Villages, Agnes Varda-  Reviewing the ways ‘Places Faces’ {documentary} opens a  polemical representation of memory within lost bodies and space, through Laure Prouvost journey to make new memories of places and faces before she looses her vision: Seeing Before I Can’t.

5 Francesca Woodman- Analysing the way Woodman presents and joins ‘the decrepit’ through space and objects within decayed domestic mundanity: Timeless Decay

6 Alebardo Morell: This research looks camera obscura works that connect outdoor and indoor spaces. I am interested in the notion of ‘third space’, and how Morell achieves this joining of familiar places into one new perspective for viewers: Temporal Spaces

Statement of intent

The following research looks at the ways practitioners conceptually and literally formulate different a relationships between the fragility of time, bodies and memories throughout spaces, sounds, texts and objects. There is a rawness and a purity of truth within this research that presents an emotional experience in the tactility of the works discussed as the artists often open up new ways of seeing or experiencing themselves, ourselves or other worldly phenomenons. Thus, some of the research looks at the ways relational aesthetic art impacts conceptual narratives through spaces and bodies.

Laure Prouvost: What is so special about digging?

Prouvost is a conceptual artist who’s work aims to form a tactile and sensory relationship between the audience and the artist. I am interested in the physicality of Prouvost’s narrations as the work comes to life within the viewers through the act of doing. To look at this notion of a physical relationship with the work in a conceptual and literal way this research will be analysing the ways this artist forms such work within the concepts of memorial and memory but also the raw physical relationship of digging.

Burrow me,12 minutes 53 seconds

Burrow Me, is an multi media space installation by Prouvost, it is an interactive and space consuming work which requests the physical involvement of its viewers. The piece is a memento to Prouvost’s late grandfather who has been missing for the past 20 years, after he disappeared when building a tunnel from France to the UK during a performance piece. The work encompasses a series of tunnels that follow the footsteps the artists grandfather, the fellow conceptual artist and contemporary of Schwitters. The artist invites the audience to select their own shovel, enter the tunnels and search... digging for the left over parts of her granfather. {Prouvost dislikes it when people refer to their grandfather as a fictional character by discussing the search for  ‘fictional remains’ so for this reason I will be seeing this work as an authentic narrative.}

There is something fascinating about the act of digging itself. Turning flat dirt into holes and piles of discarded mud. The repetitiveness, the way you can become lost in the motion of the digging and with this piece, the goal of forming tunnels to no where that appear to be these consuming endless tunnels of memorial. Within my recent works I have spent time digging searching for lost items in house house so I can relate to the tactility of this cathartic doing. Along side of the bodies digging and buried this multi media installation consists of objects from the artists home, projections and other ‘parts’ scattered through carefully curated placements along these tunnels. Through the act of entering and being submerged in a 360 all encompassing ‘installation’, ‘the viewer entered the artwork to be immersed’ {1} . With this the artist creates an other worldly and intimate bond where the lies within the work. ‘Burrow Me, Prouvost attempts to create a bond between narrator and viewer, developing a world where the audience’s imagination is at work… Here a place is made where the believable be- comes unbelievable and the unbelievable believ – able.’ {2} 

Laure Prouvost, Shed a Light, 2018 {Video projection with sound, 17.56 min}  

‘a sprawling complex of buildings erected when the centre was founded, gallery space, pottery, residency accommodation (a sixteenth-century farmhouse) and new artists’ studios.’ {1} 

The tunnels and all the ‘bits’ inside them such as films and objects  encompass the interest I have within the tactility of a narrative. The bonds this artist has with the viewer and the work as well as the many other aspects of her practice. Furthermore, Prouvost continually deals with the merging of mediums as a way to conceptually narrate scenes. ‘The image, the object, the screen and the body collude’ {1} through the tactility of the work in the way engagement of the audience.

‘Prouvost makes videos, but also performances and installations of objects, drawings, printed matter, screens and texts. The stories she tells, like the one about her grandfather, might sound made up, but they are as real as any other’ {1}

Laure Prouvost, Ring, Sing and Drink for Trespassing, exhibition view at Palais de Tokyo (22.06.2018 – 09.09.2018). Photo: Aurélien Mole

I am interested in the way artists differently narrate the space of memory  and  ‘stories that are forgotten’ {1}. Prouvost uses these multi mediums to inform each other and the experience of the audience. The signs and almost instructions describing directions or  ‘informing behaviour’ within their work revolve around the relationship between space and text. These cerebral sensory directives almost dismantle authority and through this unusual intimacy of the artist and viewer there is a heightened sensory value to these works. 

‘There are small panels on the walls of the Wysing exhibition HEY, I’M MR POETIC, which are more suited to interior space, mimicking gallery text panels. The signs gesture to themselves as signs; they impacting on objects around them: DON’T LOOK UP; IDEALLY THIS SIGN WOULD BE DEEPER; IDEALLY THIS SIGN WOULD NOT LET YOU GO; IDEALLY HERE WOULD BE SOMETHING UNDISCRIBABLE. The un- in undiscribably, although grammatically incorrect, implies that something has been reversed, like the un- in undone.  Unraveled, the word somehow means more as it makes less sense.’ {1}

{1} https://www.thewhitereview.org/feature/interview-with-laure-prouvost/

{2} https://lux.org.uk/work/burrow-me

{3} https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2019/may/09/artists-secret-tunnel-aims-to-link-france-and-britain-via-venice

Experience within Perspective: Joan Jonas

‘A picture of a place as a series of interrelated events: now surface, now depth, now reflection, now figure on space, now all of these at once.’ {1}

I am interested in the ways Joan Jonas  creates a new relationship with the perspective between spaces, objects and the experiences of these with our bodies through the curation and distortion of ‘sculptural’  images and sounds. Thus, how this is explored throughout her practices techniques and processes.

Babette Mangolte "Funnel" performance by Joan Jonas at The Kitchen in New York City in 1974, 1974 

Jonas’ ‘time capsule’ like work shows how she connects memories to places. Using space as a means to reconstruct these memories through structural forms it opens up the investigation of the ways shapes and noise can create sensory nostalgia. With this remembered space, Jonas merges the outdoors with the inside and playfully breaks this up, recreates the space and thus the empty space from which she took. To control the narrative of this space Jonas uses her body as a point of transition. In the same way I open up hospitalised bodies conceptually through the use of objects and actions, Jonas a like deals with shifting paradigms.

Through becoming part of the work {artist and audience}, we inform the work. As my objects gather meaning alike Jonas, there is a drifting reality between truth and reflection of psychical and non real, subject- object. In this play of binaries, to some degree she makes these ‘spaces’ accessible to people who it may not had been before, playing around with the idea of experiencing something without the need to be in psychical contact with something- or in my case the ability to fully see something. 

Within the space Jonas commands a layered narrative through the placement and re-framing within the frames of existing objects. The structural forms are enhanced through the contrasting tones of each element.  ‘The complex spatial illusions already embedded in her chosen locations’ {1} are even more so distorted  ‘on the other side of life shadows’ {1} through mirrored reflections.

‘In addition to creating a space, a mirror also disturbs space, suggesting another reality through the looking glass...’ ‘To see one’s self as the other... to see oneself also among, as one with, the others. {3}

Jonas’ conceptual  and physical narratives often present the notion of ‘seeing’ or experiencing art work through manipulated reflections to symbolically encompass the fragility and temporal essence of spacial matter. This process consists of delicately collecting ‘parts’ as she explains, ‘in a book I found images of strange beautiful forms’ {1}.  This process navigates the tactile relationship Jonas has within her process.   ‘I begin with an image how to frame it, and alter it through the various mediums of the mirror, distance (in landscape for instance), video, narrative, and sound’ {1} Thus, this framing and distorting enables her to perpetuates the aspect of seeing your self within a space figuratively and literally as  ‘views of space between mirrors, served to weave discrete aspects of the overall space into a constantly shifting and unstable surface of the overall space’ {1}.

Through this manipulation between the relationship of images and space the reflections serve the audience a means to form a narrative that explores the involvement of reflecting on their own bodies in a spacial and temporal context of truth ‘.... figure/ground relationships by weaving them into her space and into the present, a space and time she also shares with her audience.’ {1} 

The gestures of moving fragments within Jonas’ performance based installations such as ‘Funnel’,  incorporate the disruption of internal logic. This dichotomy between the visual transformations and the pre-recorded images projected throughout the space allows the work to entwine with the audience in way that they can experience beyond just ‘seeing’, as they become part of the work. Such expressions of movement through out objects films and sounds create a ‘fleeting’ experience, for when the cloth or mirrors are removes, it reveals something else, ‘ but during those moments, she is self-consciously challenging the viewer's reflexive relation to viewing images of space’ {1}

{Joan Jonas, Video still from Disturbances, 1974.}

Filmed with no camera illusions Jonas uses cleverly placed camera shots. The Low-fi sounds of heavy breathing swimmers and the smashing of water of rocks in films such as Disturbances, allows the audience to question ‘how such space can be experiences as environment, akin to other environments elsewhere, not because it resembles them but because of what it , too can simultaneously reveal and obscure.’ {1] 

These non visual structures navigate sensory space and allow for audiences to become structurally immersed. Thus, in the same way how an objects may block light the sound track of these works ‘concrete sounds paper crinkling like ice cracking, storms, and voice reading selected passages from the novel’ act as an echo the memories of space.

‘The field that you are standing before appears to have the same proportions as your own life.’ {4} 

{1} They Come to us without a word, Book, Joan Jonas.

{2}  Halldor Laxness, Under the Glacier, trans. Magnus Magnusson, 1972 (New York): Vintage International, 2005), 81.

{3} Joan Jonas in Johann-Karl Schmidt, ed, Joan Jonas: Performance Video Installation 1968-2000 (Ostfildern-Ruit: Hatje Cantz Verlag, 2011), 7

{4} John Berger, Why Look at Animals? (London Penguin Books, 2009), 75. 

Seeing Before I Can’t: Agnes Varda

The following  is analysing the documentary film Visages Villages {Places Faces} Scene II.

Film title: Faces Places Director: Agnès Varda, JR. Starring: Agnès Varda, JR. Release date: 21 Sep. Certificate: 12A

{*Intimate acoustic guitar plays} ‘VISAGES VILLAGES’ appears on screen... ‘I’m always game to go towards villages, towards simple landscapes, towards faces.’ Anes Varda.

Part II: Janine

Varda holding old postcards of miners discusses how she wants to put the faces to the places. Together they visit an old mining French community. Here, they meet Janine, the last remaining resident on an entire street. Once home to the miners, this last remaining resident stays as protest to its demolition. Using the old postcards the artists decided to paste the bodies of the miners on the bricks of the houses.

Janine, ‘I have too many memories here...’ 

The documentary style of this film, encapsulates a truthfully raw and emotional interactions between seeing ‘faces and places’. There is a part where miners families gather to watch the  homes transform into these memorials, projecting the faces of lost bodies onto the bricks. A miner recalls the struggles of mining in 1956. There is an authenticity of the actions and conversations that are quite poignant, though sad the stories are polemically beautiful.

My two favourite moments include, Janine’s explanation of how her dad would save her a piece of bread from his day of mining, waiting for him, he would return and shout,  ‘Alouette Bread!’  Secondly,  a man recalling his father stripping naked after mining, that is ‘Everything but the barrette’, he would then wash down his bruised back from where the coals collapsed on his skin. 

There is something rare about capturing these moments of natural words, movements and emotions that Places Faces does. Through honouring the men, the memory, the experience through this Janine tears up,

*sobbing in awe, ‘what can I say’ ...you don’t have to say anything, ‘we are friends now. we wanted to pay homage to you.’- Varda 

Varda discusses her failing sight throughout the documentary and her want to create new memories of faces and places before her vision is gone and she cannot make more. She discusses how she tries to replicate these feelings of loosing her vision,  ‘Im ruining myself. My legs, my eyes. You look blurry.’ I am inspired by the relationship between the two artists, in its romantical wholesomeness of the friendship and their aim to memorialise what others have lost on their own journeys of loss. I find Varda’s perspective within her body and the work she practices in this documentary very moving and powerful. 

...‘Attachment to a home is a powerful thing’-  Varda. Through their work they encapsulated a memory, for Varda, for Janine but also for the past to re live throughout the structures of these homes. 

Francesca Woodman: Timeless Decay

Despite her short career Woodman created hundreds of iconic black and white photographs shortly before her tragic suicide at 22 years old. I am interested in the way she narrated ‘the decrepit’ through domestic objects within spaces and how she uses symbols to metaphorically narrate ‘the broken’ through photography that embodies decay and life. 

Francesca Woodman Untitled, 1976, Rhode Island.

The ‘recurring symbolic motifs such as birds, mirrors, and skulls’ {1} speak to me as symbols of mortality. There is a pattern of varying cyclical phenomenons that conceptually and literally depict mortality, time and memory. As I sit here {listening to the Claire de Lune Radio on Spotify} I see a wider picture. Weaving these symbolic narratives within her use of materials and processes to form a combining comment on the expanding essence of temporal fragility. This merging of conceptual significance with her physical techniques ultimately embodies the fleeting experience of memory and time. Her photographs are characterised  ‘by her use of long shutter speed and double exposure, the blurred image creating a sense of movement and urgency, “Am I in the picture? Am I getting in or out of it? I could be a ghost, an animal or a dead body, not just this girl standing on the corner …?” {1}

Her work is very reflective of what most young people think about, ‘relationships, sexuality, questions of self, body image, alienation, isolation and confusion or ambiguity about personal identity.’ {2} Within my work I take a closer look at myself. Using reflections of my surroundings, the things that are aged and broken emulating parts of myself. 

There is something intimate and pure about the relationship we have with ‘the decrepit’ and the domestic. The want to be present in the moments that feel fleeting, the want to give meaning to those entities once symbolical ruined, broken or mundane. Without wanting to romanticise suicide, I do feel the artists death is significant to the work; the melancholic purity between the polarising movement of her body and the stillness of the old house windows... Is an intimate, almost disturbing experience for the viewers.  ‘Her images capture a life cut short which makes them sad and poignant today. Her ghostly presence in the photographs, whether blurred, partially hidden, obscured, camouflaged, fragmented or disguised is intense and powerful.’ {2}

Tragically Woodman ended her life through jumping from a window, from learning this; the constant imagery of birds, windows and light has a very dark narrative that I did not see before when selecting these works.

There is a relationship she commands in the spaces and with the objects she photographs as she captures a flashing moment of connectivity, as though she is the only mind and body for miles, almost proposing to mend or bring to life these places or things once forgotten or damaged. ‘The images convey an underlying sense of human fragility’ {2}, and she does this through not only her physical body but the domestic objects and spaces of which she joins.  

Francesca Woodman,  1958–1981. It must be time for lunch now, New York, 1979. Gelatin silver print, Sheet: 8 × 10 in. (20.3 × 25.4 cm)

‘She created an imagined reality through her use of locations, lighting, clothing, props and her own body’. {2} In addition to this, her fundamental aesthetic is iconically timeless.  Through manoeuvring light around the decaying interiors the tonal quality of her photographs is another layer to this mysterious, dramatic and timeless work.

{1} http://www.artnet.com/artists/francesca-woodman/

{2} https://www.tate.org.uk/art/artists/francesca-woodman-10512/finding-francesca

Temporal Spaces: Alebardo Morell

This research is looking at the ways Morell creates temporal spaces through the merging of the outdoors with domestic indoor spaces through camera obscura techniques. In particular, I am interested in works which deal with the layering of mundane domestic space and  reflections which propose an illusion of what domestic space may mean.

‘I made my first picture using camera obscura techniques in my darkened living room in 1991.’ {2}

Houses Across the Street in Our Bedroom, Quincy, Massachusetts, 1991 

There is an intentionally ‘de-skilled’ aesthetic through the choosing of space and his process of the work that exerts such a raw and physical relationship within the imagery that equally extends through out his processes. Morell covered ‘all windows with black plastic in order to achieve total darkness. Then, I cut a small hole in the material I use to cover the windows. This opening allows an inverted image of the view outside to flood onto the back walls of the room.’ {2}, I think this hands on D-I-Y approach reflects the tactility of outdoor spaces on the purposefully honest truth in the textures and impurities of the domestic objects. 

This ambiguous illusion achieved from the camera obscura effect creates a structurally layered composition through the movement contained throughout the ghostly structures. The unmade bed in Houses across the street in our bedroom, 1991, mirrors ocean like movements of the swaying outdoor spaces. Thus, such merging of structures encompassing the notion of movement suggests to the audience a temporal questionability in the harmony of stillness and wave like wind depictions.  The transient photographs  ‘capture more momentary light.’ {2}, giving us a time subjective experience of this other worldly view. As the permanent capture of these impermanent motions  ‘fold the view outside the original window and unfold it inside the room.’ {3}

Through ‘the marriage of the outside and the inside’ {2} Morell, ‘provokes an overlapping of domestic space and outside world, thus creating an ambiguous and disturbing third kind of space.’ {3}

The Sea Attic, 1994,

What is ‘third space’? I think this other space is achieved through the illusional inversion of images within the domestic mundane and the temporal importance as it stops the mundane from being overlooked.

Mundane/ Third space 

The everyday-ness in mundane outdoor, domestic space and objects is a prevalent theme through out my work, which has become even more so relevant in my recent conceptual narratives. Morell uses spaces indoors that reflect those outdoor although he also takes simple structures that oppose through much subtler contradictory linear aspects. This marriage holds the essence of time within a propelling merge of stillness and movement, thus giving you this third space to question and dissect the domesticated Mundane as an often overlooked phenomenon.

Some would describe the relationship I have with my ‘home’ as unique. I rely on my muscle memory to navigate the structures and empty space through textures, listening, heat, my body and counting. Spanning across five floors, the 200+ year old house as I like to say; has it’s own time zone, climate and at times is otherworldly. From the climbing wall to the cave tunnels filled with stalagmites, it is without a doubt an interesting space. However, to have existed here whilst adjusting to the changes in my vision, it’s the ‘mundanity’ of the house I have become familiar with. ‘In moment of pause, we look and are overwhelmed with a level of detail and experience which, relieved of the typical haze of inattention, is practically foreign to us.’ {1}

There is a simplicity of Morell’s structural components in these specific works, as he presents basic and mundane backgrounds and setting although it is this plain-ness  that such a dramatic effect is achieved. This subtle drama allows the audience to view these spaces in a closer relationship through the inverted looking glass of the outdoor space. I feel like the outdoor space acts as a vessel within these works as it describes the home in a all encompassing place, a place of life and significance. 

There is a truth to be accessed in viewing our spaces in new ways and through ‘Pulling on the thread of the genuine woven into the mundane’ {1} these fragmented components unveil a truth in what can be experienced in these abrupt moments.

Furthermore, I think despite captivating the motions of wind and the fleeting temporal notion in tonally dramatic shadow work, there is an all encompassing stillness to the work. Morell wants his audience to feel the movements in a stillness as experience, and digest the components of each fragmented part within this work. Ultimately, creating this dramatic marriage of mundane temporal spaces.

{1}   Lynn, J & Kenway, W. 2017. Art and The Ordinary: Literary and Visual Constructs of the Mundane. UNLV Theses, Dissertations, Professional Papers, and Capstones. 2995

{2} https://www.abelardomorell.net/project/camera-obscura/

Additional Sources

 {1} Aware Women Artists Website 

[automaticvr]

Extract taken live with 1080p camera, in the dome where it is presented, which explains the relative low quality of it. A full documentation with better quality and edit is expected sometimes late. Perspective is a new immersive piece designed for dome, featured between June 20th to September 07 2019 at Constellation Festival (France) in the form of an audiovisual hybrid installation. On the développement aspects, the piece involves 360° generative visual (designed in Touchdesigner), spatial sound (high order ambisonics managed with IRCAM Spat + and multichannel impulse response for space simulation ), and an array of moving head lights also managed in Touchdesigner that dont appear in that extract. Read the synopsis of the piece bellow: After Entropia (2015), an iconic immersive performance that toured the world, Fraction & StArnault present their new piece, Perspective, an immersive performance taken from the eponymous installation that will be presented three months in dome from end of June 2019 at Constellations Festival (Metz, Fr). With their unique craft, the artists invite the audience to a surrealist fantasy that tells the unlikely and insatiable human quest for pushing up sky boundaries to find answers of the impossible, at a moment when we are facing the tangible reality of our finite ecosystem. Designed for Dome, that strongly evokes in the collective imagination the artifact of post-modernist, utopian, and contemporary architecture, the piece will offer to the public to live a new form of immersive narrative whose the duo keep on exploring by mixing medias, and featuring the most recent developments in the langage of immersion, in particular this time those addressing the design of mix reality spaces. By playing with dimensional representations, artist board viewers to live the experience of an ambivalent world built in balance between the physical and virtual world, a new dimension they narrate in order to provoke a perceptual shift and a dreamlike emotional charge of their own, and beyond, to evoke a transcendental journey to the confines of our common imaginary

#Vimeo

[toastiko]

An Update & A Story

Hi guys. I’m finally taking action against my weed dependency. Each day, I’m taking one less hit than the day before. I actually haven’t tried quitting since I went cold turkey, the week before last Christmas. I was only able to stay sober until Christmas day for those wondering. Aside from the one visit to my father in February earlier this year, I’ve smoked every day since Christmas, 2019.

Now I lay here in bed, mostly sober and slightly depressed, wondering, how? How did weed become the top priority in my life?

These thoughts manifested during my sober week before Christmas, but now that I’m laying here, out of weed and sober enough, I can actually put my thoughts into words. Anyway, the main reason I started to abuse marijuana was because of my move from Michigan to Oklahoma (July 1st 2017). But there were a lot of small events that also contributed to the abuse too. The beginning of the abuse started around three years ago, but before we talk about that, you need to know how I was brought up. 

This next part is for my friends who I didn’t grow up with.  Read it if you want, you won’t make me cry if you don’t. 

Parts of the story below may sound like me just bragging. If you take it that way, that’s on you. I’m just trying to be as detailed as possible so people can get a proper understanding of how I was raised. 

In 2001, I was adopted at birth in Jackson, Mississippi. (I’ve always grown up knowing that I was adopted and some people think it’s a really touchy subject for me even though I couldn’t care less. In fact, I used to joke about it before my sense of humor vanished )         I was born with my feet completely backwards, or in other words, I had severe clubbed feet. At the age of 2, I had surgery and spent a year in walking casts. During that time, my parents and I in lived in a mansion until 2005, when hurricane Katrina came and shreked everything. So we moved to Oklahoma and lived in a low class barn for around 8 months. In 2007, my dad got a job offer in Lansing, Michigan, and that’s really when my life ‘started’.

The first memory I have of Michigan is driving down our beautiful dead end street with my eyes glued to the falling snow which I had never seen before. We lived in a three story house with a front yard the size of a soccer field and a backyard half the size of a soccer field, with a lake right behind it. Yeah, I had it good, but I didn’t even realize at the time because it was normal to for us to live in big houses. Now the two houses next to us had neighbors with kids my age. JC was one of these kids. The kid was huge - not fat, but well built. He was a French Canadian American who had lived there since birth. If I met him today for the first time, I don’t think we’d be friends, but JC, though he was the same age as me, felt like an older brother. He was disciplined (mostly), goofy, and a little arrogant at times, but we always had a good time when we got together. So most days after school, instead of hanging out with my best friend who lived far, far, down the road, I hung out with JC, and that’s what my life was like after school almost every day until he moved in 2014 (2015? I don’t know)

Now let me tell you about my parents. My dad is an American Armenian who was told by his parents as a child that he was going to grow up to be a heart surgeon, so that’s what he did. He’s disciplined, hardworking, wise - he’s pretty much the smartest person I know. But growing up, I despised him. He lacked empathy and could be extremely insensitive at times. But when things would go bad for me, he always knew exactly what to say and he knew how to get his point across. But I hated him while living in Michigan because I was obsessed with ONLY having fun and playing video games with my friends and he abhorred video games. He would guilt trip me when he’d walk into my room and find me playing something. One time, he even took away my xbox 360 after I failed a test, and said he’d give it back after a week. I never got it back. Despite the negatives, he taught me to not let my emotions get the best of me, he taught me how to remain calm, how to be humble, and so much more.

My mom, on the other hand is the COMPLETE opposite of my dad. She’s outgoing, sensitive, gullible, and unlike my dad, she could befriend ANYONE she meet. When she passes homeless people, she ALWAYS gives them money out of sympathy. To make it clear how nice she is,  if you sat Hitler down with her for some tea, Hitler would leave with his mustache shaved, and with a big, teeth grinning smile. She can make anyone like her. My mom spoiled me beyond senseless. She’d end my punishments early, she’d buy junkfood that the neighbors would eat up the next day, and she would buy me whatever I wanted under $200 and then say “Just don’t tell your father!” Even most of my friends at one point said, “Why can’t your mom be my mom?” However, my mom liked and still likes to live in a world where her feelings come before facts. She tends to get ripped off or scammed a lot when she bought stuff online or in person. Not to mention she sometimes follows the crowd instead of thinking critically. Ignoring her flaws, my mother taught me empathy, compassion, and love.

So having parents that were polar opposites from each other really balanced me out as a kid. I was (and still am) a shy boy, but I was quick to open up to whoever I trusted. Unless I was fighting with my parents, I rarely let my emotions control me. I’d be humble and respectful in public and or at school, and then I’d be my immature, batshit crazy and edgy self with my friends. 

My school life was okay. In 1st grade, I met my best friend, Christian.

2nd grade I had surgery on my feet again and missed 6th months of school. When third grade came, my dad convinced my mom to hold me back a grade since I missed so much and they switched me over to a private school. I cried and begged them to keep me in the same grade but the answer was ‘nope’. Today, I’m glad they held me back.

Life at the private school, STM, was vastly different than the public school I’d been going to. My grade had about 20 kids and I was the oldest there. All the boys were little jocks. Obsessed with sports. I played soccer and baseball a year before but sports wasn’t really my thing. The boys were nice to me though and I became friends with them, though I barely had anything in common with them. So I turned to the girls. I befriended most of the girls, and even sat at their side of the table at lunch everyday. I had a huge crush on a girl named Casey, and funnily enough, so did all the other boys. So I spent 2nd and 3rd grade trying to slide into Casey’s DM’s and by the end of the third grade, I was in. Well, I mean, we were extremely close. I went to her house, she went to mine, and I was a happy boy. So far, life was going well.

4th grade came and I was scared. Rumor had it that the 4th grade teacher was a mean bitch, and half of my other classmates had switched schools, leaving 9 kids in the class. So I convinced my parents to pull me out and move me to a bigger private school. STA.

This is where shit went down. I went to STA from grade 4 to grade 8. One day, in 5th grade, when we were all edgy, horny boys who had sex ed coming up in a week , eight of us went outside and I recorded a video of one of my friends, goofily explaining how to have sex in five steps. I uploaded the video to Youtube in 2013 titled, ‘Nick’s 5 special steps.’

Two days pass, and I’m sitting in my homeroom with the eight other boys and suddenly two of the school’s priests come in. I remember one thing Fr. A said that day. He made eye contact with every boy in the room besides me, and said,

“I hope to see you all in reconciliation because you all have a lot to atone for.”

I thought this was funny because I was Lutheran and didn’t do reconciliation. 

In a smart move, my dad made me delete my first youtube channel, epickarek, in fear that the school would file a lawsuit since the video showed minor’s faces. 

After that incident, life was pretty normal and uneventful up until 8th grade. In February, 2016, I was expelled. My friends at STA abhorred me. Those who were my friends a mere two days ago started sending me death threats.

 I started going to therapy and went to the public middle school in my area. Switching to that school was one of the best changes in my life. I made sure to tell no one about why I switched schools and within a few days, I had friends in every class. Not close friends, but friends that you could sit down at lunch and have a chat with. 

I started hearing the rumors during my second week there. One day, in math class, the girl in front of me, Savannah, turned around and asked out of nowhere, “Did you kill someone? I heard you did.” The classroom was tiny and there were about 8 people in the class so everyone heard, including the teacher, and they turned toward me, waiting for an answer. Instantly, I faintly laughed and said something along the lines of “I wouldn’t be sitting here if I did.” Everyone laughed and the class continued. The next day, it seemed like all 200 kids in my grade were focused on me. People constantly approached me, asking crazy questions and telling me the absurd rumors they heard. 

“I heard you stabbed someone.”

“Did you stab yourself?”

“What’s juvie like?”

“My friend at your old school says not to trust you. What did you do?”

The rumors drew more people to me, and ironically, I befriended most of those people once they saw that I wasn’t a psychopath. 

When the summer of 2016, came, I had my first serious girlfriend. Despite my parents being on the verge of a divorce, my life was at it’s peak. I had a girlfriend, a best friend, and a whole group of friends who felt like brothers. 

The next thing I know, It’s Christmas break and I’m in Oklahoma visiting family and she breaks up with me... for one of my friends. That led me to become super depressed, and angry. Very angry. Most of my friends were there for me. But talking about the breakup openly is the reason why everything went downhill from there. TLDR, My Ex, and myself BOTH overreacted.

I’m not going to tell the whole story online, but If you really want to know, I’ll tell you in person. 

Anyway, to shorten a long story, I got a call from my ex’s father saying if I don’t stay away from her, her family will take legal action. So, fearful of court, I respected his demand and stayed away. The next day when I got home from school, I found a FAT stack of papers on the kitchen table labeled, Personal Protection Order, aka a restraining order. I was furious and I stupidly posted to snapchat out of rage, roasting her about it. And within the next week, my family was in court with her’s. The judge, was the same judge who was working my parent’s divorce, (I don’t know why or how that’s allowed) and she did not like my dad, but she especially did not like my mom. Anyway, the PPO said on the front page that I wasn’t allowed to talk about her, ANYWHERE. Online or in person. so that’s why I was there. The judge banned me from the internet for until 2018 and I went home.

Stupidly, I violated the PPO twice after that (The judge then banned me from social media until 2019) and after the third time in court, the judge insulted my mother for how she raised me and I was found guilty, put into a squad car, and SHIPPED.

Like I said, if you want to know more details, just ask me in person. I’m getting pretty good at telling the story.

Fast forward a few weeks and it’s the last day of my freshman year of high school. I’ll never forget that day. I watched the people in my grade throw their hands up, celebrating and rushing out the doors, and I remember just standing there thinking, “I’m never going to see these guys again.”

What’s even worse was the fact that I was going to have to leave my group of around 8-12 friends.  And a few prior to the move, my best friend of 8 years ended our friendship because he was upset that I didn’t tell him that I was moving sooner. If that’s how he really felt, I don’t blame him, for I was depressed and acting strange.

My best friend strayed away from our group when he stopped talking to me so I really only had a few select people in my friend group that I could really call friends. Dillion, Josh, Keaton, Brock, (even maybe Preston) although I only spent around a year with them, we had powerful connections with each other. They felt like brothers. So when my mom said she was moving to Oklahoma, I was destroyed. I wasn’t going to let my mom move alone, but I was going to have to leave my support group. It was one of the toughest decisions I’ve ever made. I remember the week before we moved, I drove all around Lansing, listening to the Guardians of the Galaxy II playlist and feeling numb.

Then we moved

Within two months of moving to Oklahoma, smoking weed had become a daily habit. I had already been introduced to it by some friends before I moved, so I was familiar with the drug. At first, It diminished my guilt. I didn’t have to think about my friends I left or my old best friend...

I didn’t have to constantly think about the nice cop leading me out of the downtown courthouse into his car in some loose handcuffs.

I didn’t have to think about being in that dark, concrete solitary cell for two days, going crazy thinking that my white, skinny ass was going to juvie for 21 days like the judge said...

I didn’t have to think about the satanic, traumatizing things I did to that person in 8th grade that I still struggle to forgive myself for....

I didn’t have to think about anything if I just smoked my problems and sadness away. 

My first three days as a sophomore were miserable. I had already been to 7 different schools (ask me) and I was exhausted with the thought of having to start over with making new friends. So me, already depressed, convinced my mom to let me do online classes at home.

By the summer of 2018, my cousin had introduced me to his group of friends and we all got along pretty well. We smoked everyday until the end of summer. As fall drew near, I was PARANOID. I was two years younger than most of my friends and I thought I was annoying to them and felt like I intruded on their group, so I distanced myself. I stopped snapping the group chat and stopped inviting them over. I pushed them away because I was paranoid. I had never been as paranoid as I was until I started smoking weed.

2019 came and despite it being the end of my internet ban, I was broken. Being high was the new sober. My highs started turning into a buzz and only a buzz. It didn’t make me laugh or smile, it just made me a lazy husk that played video games and watched youtube endlessly. 

When the summer of 2019 arrived, my cousin came to spend the summer with me. Now, I don’t want to rant about other people anymore so I’ll just say this. He knew I was broken. It was clear as day; I’d wake up, sit at my desk all day, then go to sleep. Despite my attempts at open conversation, he was never willing to be vulnerable with me, even when Etika died. So when the end of summer came, we were both very condescending and passive aggressive toward one another.

After that summer, I was left still high, insecure, mean, emotionless, and lonely. I didn’t want to contact my Michigan friends because was a little bitch. I was afraid they would see what I’d become and they’d distance themselves from me, so I turned to the internet. I knew that I had fans and friends that waited two years for my return, so I started streaming. All was going well, but despite all of my internet friends, I wasn’t happy. Not knowing the source of my unhappiness, I continued to smoke and stream, slowly ignoring my internet friends over time, and I continued neglecting myself.

Then mid December came. I don’t remember how it happened, but I stopped smoking for a week. It was during that week that I realized what I just typed above. I was emotionless - I hadn’t genuinely laughed in months, I felt pressured to stream. My relationships sucked and were fading day by day, so I stopped smoking. 

Christmas soon came and to simply put it, I relapsed. One small hit. That’s all it took. I took one tiny vape hit on Christmas evening and I’ve been smoking everyday since then. 

I’ve wrote this not because I want pity, but because I want to help my friends understand me a little better.

To all of my friends,  I know I’ve been distant from all of you. Please, just be a little more patient with me, I’m getting there. :) 

Anyway... I started writing this mini essay on July 31st and I’ve spent 6 days working on this. I’ve never talked about some of this stuff openly so it feels like a weight has been lifted off my chest. My final thoughts are in my post that precedes this. Thanks for reading, I love you all, be safe, don’t catch the VID, and remember,

Dicks out for Harambe.

[girlwithmousyhair-blog]

David Bowie's "Life on Mars" is obviously where I got the title for my tumblr.

But why is it the title? What does such a monumentuous song of legendary porportions, that has spawned covers and been featured in countless television shows and movies have to do with little thirty year old me?

Well, for one I have mousy hair.  No really.  It's like a dull light brown.  I guess it's really -in- now but just keep dying mine darker in a very nonchalant manner. But as far as the rest of the song, it talks about a girl who is by all accounts disappointed.  She's disappointed in the constant reoccurring depression of life from which she feels there is no escape.  And I can relate.  Boy oh boy, can I relate.

That is the beautiful thing about music and "Life on Mars" in particular.  We find ourselves absorbed into the lyrics, relating to what the singer has to say in his or her lyrics.  That's what makes music so wonderful. With or without lyrics, the music can carry us away or find itself penetrating us, filling us with emotions.  It can make us laugh, it can make us cry.  It's a powerful thing.

So to honor Bowie, may he rest in peace, and start this tumblr off on a personal note as to how music effects me, here is a link to "Life on Mars".

https://video.search.yahoo.com/video/play;_ylt=A2KLqIHZubRYNXgAYL_7w8QF;_ylu=X3oDMTBzNWN0ZjRuBHNlYwNzcgRzbGsDdmlkBHZ0aWQDBGdwb3MDMjY-?p=life+on+mars&vid=4b37f0f4849e89911b88f859fdb6e75d&turl=https%3A%2F%2Ftse3.mm.bing.net%2Fth%3Fid%3DOVP.V5423d85aca28c4ab2d7ab0973b0eec7b%26pid%3D15.1%26h%3D360%26w%3D480%26c%3D7%26rs%3D1&rurl=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3Dv--IqqusnNQ&tit=David+Bowie+-+Life+On+Mars%3F&c=25&h=360&w=480&l=242&sigr=11bjpp8qa&sigt=10rjm3c3q&sigi=132eh33nb&age=1235799267&fr2=p%3As%2Cv%3Av&fr=mcafee&tt=b

#music #david bowie #life on mars