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beewitched-blr · 6 months

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Moon Signs and How They Appear.

Aries Moon. They have eyes so excitable that you instantly feel a sense of nostalgic fondness for them. Childlike smiles and faces so bright that make them a wonderment to behold.

Taurus Moon. They have eyes so comforting they can make you feel at home with a single glance. Beautiful features that radiate luxury and opulence. Strong, resilient and lovely but so much more than that. An ethereal type of light.

Gemini Moon. They have eyes so wide and friendly that you feel yourself being pulled closer without much thought. Humorous and talkative smiles that could light up even the darkest room. They truly glow.

Cancer Moon. They have eyes so deep you could drown in them. Smiles lit up from the moon and wild hair like the waves of the ocean. Behind their guard, they emit an honest sensitivity that is like no other.

Leo Moon. They have eyes full of confidence and passion. Truly beautiful in such a direct way. Adorned with trinkets or not, there is always beauty here. Wild and passionate features that manage to draw attention without even meaning to.

Virgo Moon. They have eyes so complex you may feel a little dazed. With insane intellect, their beauty shines in such unique ways. Quietly confident features like that of a beautiful renaissance sculpture.

Libra Moon. They have eyes that give a sense of true peace. They radiate justice and love so much so that they give off a deity type of beauty. Bright smiles that could rival the sun. Their eyes hold so much weight that it's a rather special thing to witness.

Scorpio Moon. They have eyes so intense you can feel their power. A sharpness about them that you can see the pure strength in their emotions. Eye contact that makes you feel like they're looking straight into your soul.

Sagittarius Moon. They have eyes that are always looking elsewhere. Searching and yearning for the unknown and the feeling of freedom. Their travelling feet somehow manage to keep up with their brilliant thoughts.

Capricorn Moon. They have eyes so strong their resilience can easily be found just by looking at them. They have a sense of maturity that makes them feel almost worldly and connected to things that we can't even imagine.

Aquarius Moon. They have eyes glistening and sparkling so bright you could mistake them for the stars in the sky. Tears of liquid stardust and their hearts as big as the galaxy. They give a sense of unique beauty.

Pisces Moon. They have eyes so hypnotising it's as if you're in a maze. A mind like a puzzle and yet a person of true wonder. Their dreamy appearances and inquisitive smiles are hard to escape.

#witch #astrology #astro witch #moon signs #witchy #witchery #witchcraft #witchblr #witch blog #witches of tumblr #witches #astrology witch

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revasserium · 11 months

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Hi rain, how are you today? take care of yourself, okay. May i please request prompt 88 for kita? Hope you're doing good, and if you're okay with the request. Thank you, have a great sunmer! Xoxoxo

hq reqs are open u__u

88. This world was never meant for one as beautiful as you

kita; 1,857 words; fluff and that's it -- happy bday kita-san! <3 may your rice harvest be plentiful this year!

“what does ‘beauty’ mean to you?”

it’s a question you’ve pondered, your skin smudged dark with charcoal and lead, your fingertips always ash-bitten, but sparrow-quick and just as flighty. when your art teacher had posed the question to the entire class, you’d been taken by it, held still by the vastness and the implication.

the first time you see him, you see him in brushstroke and paint, and it’s hard not to, what with his hair the exact imitation of an ink-dipped brush. but you see him in still-life and in motion studies, in the hard marble of renaissance sculpture, in the soft effervescence of impressionist painters.

beautiful, is your first and only thought.

but you are of the quiet sort of artists, the ones who, like truly dedicated nature photographers, have mastered the art of camouflage so well that rare birds and animals will crawl right up to their cameras. you are an expert at blending in, whether it be into the back of a classroom or simply to a park bench along a busy stretch of road to watch the street vendors hawking their wares, the tourists with their wide eyes and wandering gazes, always so unsure, the parents and children and businessmen in their ill-fitted suits.

you are of the quiet sort, and you’re content being as you have always been. but quiet artist girls don’t usually suddenly manage to find the gusto to talk to the beautiful boy who also just so happens to be the captain of their nationally ranked volleyball team.

it’s just not the sort of thing that happens.

until… it does.

“ahh… a model?”

you nod, your eyes flickering passed kita’s expression of tempered confusion, your fingers worrying themselves in the hem of your skirt.

“y-yes… it’ll only be for about an hour or so — and it’s on a day when you don’t have practice —” you frown at a fraying thread in the corner of your uniform and resist the urge to tug it till it unspools across the bright, paneled wooden floors of the hallway, cast brilliant in reflections of afternoon light. like this, kita’s face is lit up from below, his skin inked in orange and yellows. like this, he is nothing short of incandescent.

“sure. it’s no trouble.”

you nearly slam yourself into a bow of thanks, promising that you’ll find some way to repay him for this, turning on your heels and nearly galloping to the empty classroom where you spend most of your afternoons, sketching for your portfolio.

you run so fast that you don’t see kita’s lips twitch into the beginnings of a smile.

you don’t see the dark amber of his eyes track your form all the way down the stretch of hallway, till you turn and are lost to his sight. you don’t see him standing there for a long moment after, listening to the echo of your footsteps as they ring against the walls.

he arrives at the after school art club a bit early, intent on doing his due diligence, and he’d taken care to shower early that morning, to make sure this uniform is pressed and neat and tucked in at all the right places. he arrives at the art class to find the room bustling with activity, and the history teacher smiling at him genially from the front of the classroom.

“ah — kita-san, welcome, welcome. and thank you again for agreeing to model for us today.”

kita drops into a short, sharp bow before his eyes slingshot to you, sitting behind an easel that’s easily almost as tall as you are standing up. you’re busy with your supplies, but there’s a practiced nature to your movement as you methodically pull out all your paints and brushes, your charcoals and inks. it reminds him of himself when he’s in his element, on the court, or collecting all the scattered balls from around the gym after a good, hard practice session, pushing the cart, dragging the long mop across the wax-wooden floors.

you pause and look up, your eyes meeting his, and immediately again you duck behind the large easel. kita bites down a smile, makes note of the tight, tingling feeling in his chest and reminds himself to address it later. he tucks the thought away as he turns back to the history teacher as he begins to explain the specifics of being model for a day.

you peer out from behind your easel as kita turns away, the weight of his eagle-eyed gaze no longer pressed to your skin — like a pair of sun-warmed stones, they sit round and smooth and right and you’d felt them flicker over the rest of you before coming back up to rest on your face.

class starts and for the first time in your life, you find yourself hesitant to put pencil to paper, to dip your brush in ink and watch the darkness seep into the waiting canvas. you stare at kita, who is standing with a hand tucked into his pocket, the other resting by his side, his face turned at a 45-degree angle, looking for all the world as if he were in engaged in a phantom conversation, listening intently.

“1-minute poses please,” the history teacher says and kita bobs his head in a brief nod as the timer starts.

and this time, you don’t miss it — the way his eyes swipe towards you, lingering, lingering, and then he’s gone again.

you suck in a breath and nearly upset a jar of black ink coughing as it catches in your chest. flushing deep and hot, you mutter a soft apology to the people sitting next to you as you begin to draw.

it is mixed medium, so you pick a few of your smudgiest charcoals and set to work, your arm lissome and fluid as you sketch out the contrasting lines of kita’s face, his arms, the bend of his calves, even within the loose-fitted slacks of the school uniform — you can see their strength.

another blush threatens to overwhelm your cheeks as you squint at the page, eyes flickering up at odd intervals. and once, twice, three times, you catch him staring straight back at you. the air between you fizzles with unspent static electricity and you can’t help wondering if it’s all in your mind.

but of course it is, you think to yourself as the first half of the drawing sessions draws to a close and everyone stretches sore arms and stiff legs in their seats, chair legs scraping against the classroom floor. you frown down at the mess of sketches peppering your sketchpad. it isn’t until you feel his presence next to you that you finally lift your head.

“you do beautiful work.”

you gulp, blinking up at him. his face is gilded gold from the setting sun and you feel your breath soften in your chest.

“it helps to have a beautiful subject.”

you want to swallow back the words almost the second you say them, but then kita is laughing, a light laugh, a warm happy laugh. and you look back up to find him smiling. it’s a brilliant, beautiful thing.

“well… thank you.”

the second half of the drawing session is a reclining pose, and you pick pastels for this, rendering him in soft colors and even softer lines. except for the deep amber of his eyes, the ink-dipped tips of his hair. time shifts itself around you and before you know it, the session is ending. and everyone is packing up to go.

you finish packing your art supplies to find kita by the door, his eyes downcast at his phone screen, but when he looks up to find you watching him, he offers you a smile, pushing himself up from the doorframe to the rapidly emptying classroom.

“th-thanks again for agreeing to this…” you say as you both head out into the darkening hallway.

“i had a good time,” he says, and you think this is the most you’ve ever heard him speak.

the quiet stretches, taffy thick between you as he walks you to the school gates and you turn towards him with another shy smile.

“maybe… you could do it again sometime?”

kita cocks his head.

“if it’s alright. i’d like to.”

you nod, pleasure twining up your chest till you can almost taste it on the tip of your tongue.

“i’ll talk to takigawa-sensei again and i’m sure he’d like to have you back just as much as i —” you cut off with a hiccup, realizing how much you’d said out loud and judging from the small grin tugging at kita’s lips, he’s not hard of hearing.

“ah… so you spoke to sensei first about me modeling?”

you have to physically fight the itch in your arms, to bury your face in your hands and perhaps press your back to the school’s red-brick wall and hope that it swallows you whole.

“i — well — he was asking if we knew any — anyone who’d be good and i — i immediately thought of you…”

“immediately, hm?”

there’s a soft iambic hum to his voice that washes shivers down the length of your back, like stepping into a hot shower after a day spent out in the cold.

“sorry… i should’ve asked you first but…”

kita shakes his head, brushing a strand of hair from his eyes before tucking his hands into his pockets.

“you live down that way, right?” he tips his chin in the direction of the street behind you.

nonplussed, you nod. he readjusts his school bag on his shoulders and starts to walk.

“c’mon. i’ll walk you home. it’ll be dark soon.”

you stare after him for a solid ten seconds before stumbling into a jog to catch up to him, chewing down a smile that breaks over your lips anyway.

“so,” he says, letting his eyes slip towards you for a second before he focuses back on the road, “when did you start drawing?”

“i… i’ve been drawing as long as i can remember… ever since i was old enough to hold a pencil…” you take a breath and kita waits. you breathe out and let yourself smile.

“i think i’ve just… always been attracted to beautiful things… and i want to take them and keep them for myself, y’know?”

kita nods, once more casting you a side-long glance, “yeah. i know the feeling. quite well, actually.”

he doesn’t tell you that like this, with your cheeks washed in a delicate blush, either from the cold or something else, your jacket pulled high over your untucked school uniform, your thick, thigh-high stockings offsetting well-shined shoes he thinks that you’re nothing short of beautiful.

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max1461 · 1 year

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I will say this: I've learned a fair amount of art theory by talking to my sister, and while some of it is definitely pretty bullshitty, a lot of it really does make coherent and interesting points about art, the nature of making and viewing art, the social context of art, etc. Like yes, if you are a scientist you cannot approach it the way you are used to approaching scientific work. You cannot approach it like every word carries vital meaning. You have to read it and take in the general shape of the argument and throw away the shit that's bullshit. And this can be tiring to do—my sister says she transitioned away from contemporary art and into Renaissance art in part because she found it less bullshitty and she was tired of wading through the crap. Like yeah, there's some level of just saying shit for the sake of saying shit, and anyone who tells you this isn't a part of it is not correct. But that doesn't mean art theorists are just twiddling their thumbs and wasting their time; there are real points being made and if you actually engage with the work in good faith you will see them readily.

I say this because I constantly see people in my circle here, people I usually respect, criticizing contemporary art and art theory in ways that are just remarkably ignorant, ways that show they truly don't even know the very basics of the field and have not engaged with it at all. And more than being annoying, this is boring! It's like hearing non-math people get all confused over 1 not being prime, it's just... like, there's nothing interesting to be said here. You know, if you're gonna criticize contemporary art or art theory, I'd like to see criticism from someone who's actually interested in contemporary art, who actually sees something of value in all the wonky mangled wire-sculptures with styrofoam cups on them, who's like "yeah, this is super interesting, but I wish more people considered X angle" or whatever. Because, like... wonky mangled wire-sculptures with styrofoam cups on them are pretty funky and interesting, right? Like they're not my thing, but come on! There's a lot of cool, weird art out there, and I think everybody is doing themselves a disservice by reflexively dismissing it over rah rah interdepartmental academic culture war nonsense.

#navel gazing

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thehoneybeet · 1 year

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🥀 Fic Claim: Everything is Relative to You (E, 43k)

Potter was supposed to have lived. Draco is certain of this. That Potter would no longer walk the earth was tantamount to the sun moving west to east across the sky. If only he could have stopped this from happening, if he’d have known…

It comes to him as ideas often did: too late.

Or, Harry dreams of his past lives, and Draco is in every one.

Tags (check the fic for a full list):

Time travel, Past Lives, Dreams, Magical Theory, Wandlore, Unspeakable Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, Wandmaker Harry Potter, Legilimens Pansy Parkinson, Suicide Attempt, Temporary Major Character Death, EWE, Angst with a Happy Ending, Nonlinear Narrative, Animal Familiars, Renaissance Era Italy, Witch Burning, Reincarnation

It was such a delight to write this for @amywaterwings as part of H/D Erised 2022. Amy, I have so much admiration for you as a writer, and it was so fun to comb through your fics (and comment replies) for themes you enjoy. Huge thank you to @the-fools-errand for her eyes and the @hd-erised mods for putting on another excellent fest: @gracerene, @firethesound, @dictacontrion, you deserve a million thanks for bringing Erised to life year after year. I also want to thank everyone who's already commented or left kudos, it truly means the world when you do 🌹

As a little something extra, here are two sketches Andrea did, because while Gio may be a phenomenal musician he can't draw for shit.

Full images under the cut because the first one is a little NSFW.

Gio posing as a sculpture, and a self-portrait of Andrea.

#erised 2022 #everything is relative to you #honeybeet writes #drarry #fanart #self rec

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scotianostra · 10 months

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On July 14th 1927 The Scottish National War Memorial opened.

The Scottish National War Memorial, located in Edinburgh Castle, commemorates Scottish soldiers and civilians, as well as those serving with Scottish regiments who died in World War I, World War II, and other conflicts.

Robert Lorimer was the chief architect who designed the monument in 1919 and officially opened on this day in 1927.

Leading a team of two hundred artists and craftsmen, Lorimer designed the building in a style inspired by the architecture of Renaissance Scotland to include monuments to all the Services, regiments and corps that served in the First World War, but also to the many non-combatants and uniquely to all Scottish women.

The outstanding stained glass by Douglas Strachan and the bronze frieze by Alice and Morris Meredith Williams, together with the numerous other sculptures do more than gather diverse monuments in one place, however. They also present the wider message of hope that the terrible sacrifice of the war should not have been in vain: that it would secure peace and should prove truly to have been ‘the war to end war.’

The names of Scots killed by enemy action or who died from wounds, diseases or injuries during their service in the British Armed Forces, Merchant Navy, armed forces of the Dominions, women’s services and nursing services, together with all members of Scottish regiments, are listed on the Rolls of Honour held within the Memorial.

Those not serving in Scottish regiments must either have been born in Scotland or have at least one parent born in the countr

Last year solar panels were installed on the roof of the Scottish National War Memorial at Edinburgh Castle as part of moves to cut carbon emissions. They have been placed on the building as part of Historic Environment's continued programme to reduce energy use across the historic properties in its care.

#scottish #scotland #war memorial #national war memorial #edinburgh castle #edinburgh #lest we forget #history

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mask131 · 1 year

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Hello, I hope you are doing well. Apologies if this is a bit of a dumb question, or is otherwise one you've already touched on elsewhere, but based on your experience would you happen to have any insights regarding how matters of economic/social class might influence the mythology, folklore, and other storytelling traditions people groups engage with? I understand if this is a tough question to answer, it is admittedly very broad.

Not at all a dumb question! No question is dumb!

... Well to be fair some questions are dumb, but this isn't one.

Indeed it is very, VERY broad, especially since every mythology and folkore has a different context and tone and history to it.

Economy and social class... I can't actually talk much about this topic - because I am not an expert on either economics or sociology. But I will try to answer with a few things I know... And given I have been very active on my fairytale blog recently I think I can tie that to something also relevant to fairytales (which as in truth another form of folklore, somehow).

If I had something to say it would be: the idea that mythology and folklore are just "stories told by the common folk, that spread orally among the low class, that is part of everyday's culture" has to be treated VERY CAREFULLY. It is not an unfounded assumption. Folklore does spread and exist through oral traditions, as the stories are told by grandpas to granchilds, by nurses to children, from villages to villages. Lots of mythologies of the world do survive on oral culture, traditional storytelling, and "belong to the people".

But to assume mythology always was a sort of free-entity wandering around, that is transmitted exclusively orally, and that media adaptations cannot truly change or touch is probably a bit foolish - especially in the Western world.

I'll take two examples: Greek mythology and fairytales.

Given how widespread and common Greek mythology is nowadays, people tend to believe they are just stories that exist on their own, and were kept to us by storytelling, and that they existed as they are of all time... But a lot of people do not realize that Greek mythology isn't some sort of petrified oral culture or a defined set of pop culture references: Greek mythology is a literary mythology. And this is true for a lot of the mythologies of Antiquity - they are "literary mythologies" because we did not kept any of the actual "oral myths". It is not like when colonizers started to study and record the mythologies of the First Nations, or when Europeans tried to understand the myths of the first inhabitants of Australia - these were "live captures" of a mythology still in an oral, active, "folkloric" form. But Greek mythology, and in fact all other Antiquity European mythologies (Roman, Norse, Irish, Finnish...), we only know through literary works - and exclusively through them. The tales of Greek mythology were lifted, recreated and taken out of poems, of epics, of history and geography treaties. Aka works of a somehow "high" culture, works of literature, works of scholars. Taken from these literary works, the myths were then extracted and reconstucted to live just on their own, free from their original literary frame - but because of that people somehow think that these myths came to us directly from the Greek people to us without any in-between carrier or reshaper. But that's not the truth.

Heck, modern day Western Europe's perception of Greek- mythology is on top of that influenced by another "high class" intermediary: art. From the Renaissance to modern day, for centuries, Greek mythology in France (for example) was mostly spread through sculpture, opera, paintings - it was the domain of the arts, and these pieces of art importantly shaped and redefined how Greek mythology is perceived (it notably worked heavily the confusion between Roman and Greek myths). And these pieces of art were "elitist", as in accessible mostly to those that had the social status, the wealth and the and the culture.

And this is something very important to remember when dealing with European mythologies: up to a recent time, they were transmitted and carried by those that had the culture, the education, the means. Which wasn't everybody. A relevant case would be the Celtic mythology of the Isles - like Irish mythology. The only texts we got of it were from the Middle-Ages, and being texts they could have only be done by clerks. But who were clerks? Christian monks, men of the Church. And because of that, the texts of Irish myths were changed (this is why the People of Dana went from gods to just "very strong magical warriors"). Irish mythology could only survive because it was written down - but it could only survive in a modified, "diminished" form because the ones who held the culture, the education and the means of spreading stories were Christians.

European mythologies are literary in nature - as in, the myths and legends we know today all come from literary works. And writers were not anybody back then - they were special people, and so we could say that European mythology is somehow "elitist". It wasn't a "people things", it wasn't a true "folklore" like it is today. In fact, when you think about it, even back then mythology asn't just the prerogative of "everybody" - myths and legends were passed down by bards and skald, which were special people, treated with respect, with a specific training... Not everybody could be a bard, and telling myths was an artistic and social prerogative. Mythology was always quite "elitist" - unlike religion, which was the widespread thing. Mind you, mythology does become "folkloric" when you work on its reconstruction because , in front of collapsing ancient civilizations and the wave of Christianization of Europe, a lot of research can re-create and resurrect legends, myths and gods by looking into folklore proper - which often is a leftover or mutation of mythology. In folktales we find Christianized myths, in superstitions we find rites that lost their legends. (Even though not all rites have legends, and religion is different from myth - but you get what I mean, there are leftovers of mythology in what is called "folklore").

In fact, this is why we know barely anything about Gaul mythology. The Gallic mythology is lost to us because they never wrote it down, they were not a literary people, merely oral. The result was that all the legends and myths of the Gauls are gone. All we have left are images, sculptures, rumored rites, and list of names. . A puzzle with missing pieces, illustrations without the book. Hopefully some European mythologies without a "mythological literature" survived better (notably in Eastern Europe), but these are exceptions, and even then they survived in an incomplete form full of questions and interpretations.

And the second thing I want to talk about is fairytales - which I extensively cover n my secondary blog, @adarkrainbow but which hold very similar misconceptions... But my computer is bugging the hell out so I'll have to cut this post short. I will continue my answer in a reblog...

#answer #ask #again I am NOT an expert #I am just someone trying to answer the best he can a question he hasn't prepared for #didn't know this would be on the test :p #mythology #greek mythology

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deepslumbrrr · 1 year

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“In every block of marble I see a statue as plain as though it stood before me, shaped and perfect in attitude and action. I have only to hew away the rough walls that imprison the lovely apparition to reveal it to the other eyes as mine see it.”

If you're like me, then you too spend a lot of time thinking about 16th Century sculptor and painter Michaelangelo.

It's okay. You can admit it. This is a safe space. I'll be the first to admit I think about Michaelangelo at least three times out of every week—and for good reason! You see...

Stephen King once said that writing a story is like being an archaeologist.

You use the tools of your craft to unearth something truly special, careful not to damage or break apart the greater whole.

Sometimes, you find a little seashell, preserved just for you, as if it was waiting all along for you to put it against your ear. To hear the rising swells of the ocean; the vast, indefinite blue.

Sometimes, you find a Tyrannosaurus rex. The legendary king of the tyrant lizards, what with its rattling iron maiden ribcage and its enormous, eyeless skull. Grinning, gleefully, up at you. Its teeth like sabers; it's so happy to see you. It's been waiting all this time—for you.

Creativity, or rather, the act of creating, may sometimes feel that way. It could feel, like it does to Mr. King, and like it does to me, that the act of creating is not unlike the act of searching, finding, unearthing, preserving, and displaying. You found this—it's all yours—now try and dig it out of our ancient earth without missing even a single piece.

Our Renaissance man Michaelangelo had the same idea. In every one of his marble sculptures, perfectly preserved within that solid rock, was his vision made manifest. He only needed to chisel it right out—to trim away the fat, the fluff, the unneeded. Then, when he was finished, he took a step back and admired his creation. He admired every seashell and T-Rex he had ever freed.

I've been thinking a lot about the book I'm going to write this year. In just one month, its changed shape many times. I'm not sure if it's a seashell or a T-Rex myself. Every time I brush something away—kneeling in the dirt and the mud as I am—I find something else. A groove here. An impression there. A stray fragment, or a broken tooth?

What kind of treasure will I dig up for us? What's been hiding beneath my feet all this time, waiting for me, willing to greet me with a great big smile, or the great blue sea?

I look forward to finding out with you. ❤️

#slumbrrr #writing #on writing #thoughts #writing advice #tips #Michaelangelo #Stephen King #the book

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etherealsomething · 1 year

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2/26/23

An Assignment for Sculpture I

(Context, Brian Morgan’s relative, Finck, made a marble egg that looks very similar to Brancusi’s Sculpture for the Blind and our assignment was to respond, as an art scholar, to Morgan’s letter asking why Brancusi’s art is in a museum and why Fink’s is not)

(My sculpture teacher read it aloud to the class, so I wanted to keep it here to remember it. I’m proud of it.)

(anyways… the assignment)

Dear Brian Morgan,

“...what is there about Brancusi that makes his egg a work of art suitable for a museum, and not the egg by Finck?”

Thank you for your inquiry. The debate of what qualifies as art is an ongoing question that permeates the work of all creators.

When it comes to the work of your great-grandfather, Peter Finck, I am forced to think about the artisans and craftsmen from before the European renaissance. Throughout the medieval ages, art was created not by artists but by craftsmen working off their workshops' commissions. Art was not made by artists. The names of so many creators have been lost to time and replaced by the names of their patrons. But just because their art is not tied to the name of the creator does not mean that they are any less of an artist. The very fact that we can see and appreciate the beauty of their craft gives it the power to be art.

Art–the very concept of it–is nothing if not unforgiving. Unfair, even. Ruled by the hyper-intellectualized and aristocratic nature of academia, art has always been defined by those in power. The societal connotations of Brancusi’s work have established an agreement on its artistic nature and I think this is the root of why his work lies in a museum instead of on the desk of his descendants.

The institution of museums is built upon this idea of legacy. Legacy as in an intellectualization of art that stems from a creator's thoughts and ideas and their ability to fit into the ideology of ‘museum-worthy art.’ It's a heartbreaking reality of the art world. The works of Brancusi are built upon a lasting legacy that is ripe with ideas and commentary. Brancusi has created art with a foundational idea stemming beyond just the desire to create and sadly, the museum world may never uncover the ideas proposed by creators like your great-grandfather.

It comes back to this idea of exposure, rooted in the elitist nature of academic art. There are most likely a near-infinite number of examples of artists just like Finck that have been lost to the sands of time merely because of their lack of exposure. The harrowing reality of art–museum art specific–is its inaccessibility to the public. Artists are forced to establish connections with other artists, critics, and scholars in order to root themselves in the canon of academic art. Finck may have never been given the opportunity to go to art school or make these connections, shafting him from joining the ranks of ‘museum-worthy artists’.

Sadly, I feel as if my opinions on art and its value are not shared among many in the art world. But I’d like you to know.

To me, art can be anything. Art is beyond what ‘belongs’ in a museum and it infiltrates the very fiber of humanity. Art stems from aesthetic mastery and the realization of ideas. The aesthetic and emotional purpose behind a piece of art is infinitely more important than the academic intellectualization of its ‘meaning’. I believe that Finck’s egg is equally as important as any piece in a museum, based strictly on its ability to inspire beauty. The aesthetic value of art is not something that can be objectively sought and if someone is able to find beauty in an object–regardless of its intention–then it should be treated as art. The moment something is given truly artistic care, dedication, and attention it becomes a work of art. Hell, even this computer I’m typing this on could be its own work of art if I gave it that authority. I believe that your great-grandfather’s egg has not been treated like art because it has never found an audience with people that can appreciate its beauty in an artistic way.

I am a firm believer in the idea that anything can be art if given the power to be so. The generation of one's ideas of beauty and artistry are incredibly subjective, being altered by one's upbringing, one's culture, and one's background. What gives art meaning is being able to find meaning in it. Art, to me, is based on the aesthetic experience on the most individual level over intellectualism defined by any specific class. Just because artistic authorities have deemed certain pieces unartistic does not take away from their ability to inspire beauty in an individual, and to me, that is art.

If I were a curator, I would love to include Finck’s work. You said, “..the egg of my great-grandfather has the smooth, graceful lines of an artist.” That is more than enough reason for this piece to be seen by the world. Your passion and belief in this piece give it a depth of meaning that goes far beyond the ideology of many artists being showcased in modern (temporally. With a lowercase ‘m’) museums. The fact that you find artistic beauty in this piece gives it the power to be art.

I think the only reason your great-grandfather’s piece is not in a museum is that the very institution of museum-worthy art has not given it the title of the art, but I refuse to believe that such an institution has the ability to take away your individualized perception of Finck’s work as art.

Thank you for your inquiry. I wish you the best.

Define art however you wish.

#manuscript #writing #my writing #female writers #diary #assignment #art #what is art #sculpture #brancusi #art history

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nicholas1673 · 7 months

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My Understanding of Art Criticism

I have evaluated artworks mostly by students that I learned within MCAST to talk about what to improve in their artworks and the style of their work. Art criticism is an interesting subject because a person can critique an artist's work in their own opinion, knowledge and their interests in the artwork that a person likes or dislikes from the artist style in their work that a person chose to talk about also when a person evaluates an artist work that made the artwork can learn much more what to improve or change the style that truly works for the artist and that is how art evolves by time. I have learned a lot in art by having people give their own opinions of my art style of patterns by telling me that I am not that good at painting and drawing but they told me that I am better at working on 3D sculpture to show patterns in different materials.

I have learned that through time art criticism has its own timeline that started from ancient civilization, the Middle Ages, Renaissance, the Enlightenment, 19th Century to early 20th Century and Mid-to-late 20th Century that there were a lot of different centuries with different styles of art criticism. Contemporary art criticism that values every style of art man-made even digital because every artwork has its own language in art criticism for example the media, composition, balance, form, line, texture, colour, space, perspective, contrast, proportion, pattern, emphasis and symbolism, it shows that nowadays art criticism values different styles of art. There are a lot of famous people around the world that use art criticism to help great artists to be seen by the public because when a writer writes about the artist and their works they are being view as great with good potential to improve or to be seen as amazing artist around the world.

#blog #journal #art criticism #First assignment #Task 3 #reflection on what is art criticism

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ayliamc · 8 months

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Italia

Day 8 - Art Fatigue

Steps walked: 22,802

Flights climbed: 44!

Vehicles ridden: 0

Points of interest visited: 6

Leonardos spotted: where one used to be

A truly luxurious morning today. Not even hampered by the discovery of tickets booked for an earlier time than we expected. ‘Twas a sunny and cool morning, perfect for our plan to hike up for a view of the city. Also our first [and only] time exploring the south side of the Arno. We passed by Galileo’s house. No big deal right? It certainly seems not to be. It’s just a building, now three townhouses, with a little plaque and a little mural. Otherwise unmarked, no pomp, no circumstance. We might have missed it had it not been for Google maps.

I can be seen here pointing at both the plaque and a cat who was walking by. (Have I mentioned I miss the animals?)

A little further up the hill was one of many botanical gardens. We got admission and marveled at the fact that they advertised wifi and offered the password freely, and the password was rejected about seven times before randomly being accepted. No one could make sense of this. But we wandered around the poorly marked garden and enjoyed nice views of Firenze despite my indignation that the map and signage was so senseless.

A little further up the hill was the Piazzale Michelangelo where yet another replica of the David resides, this one in bronze. It also provided a great overlook of the city — evidenced in part by the large crowd we had joined all seeking the same view.

It really felt like we could be looking out onto a city in 1475, the same city Leonardo loved and lived in. The same city that has produced so many great minds. The art mouth, where creativity and genius stems from the wellspring of the Arno.

We made our way back to our room — without using gps! — and had some leftovers for lunch before heading back out into the city.

We had seen signs advertising an exhibit at the Palazzo Strozzi by one of my favorite modern artists, Anish Kapoor. I learned of him in 2009 when we saw one of his exhibits while living in London and was captivated by his work. So I couldn’t resist the opportunity to see another, and bonus: introduce his work to Dan. The exhibit happened to open today! Despite my earlier belief that it opened the tenth of July because of European dating. How lucky that we happened to be in Florence on the opening day of the exhibit! I wish it had been bigger. There weren’t many pieces installed but the ones we saw were incredible, featuring a wax installation I had seen in London and some mind bending mirror and black pieces that made you feel like you were at once falling forward and that the world was shifting around you.

From there we went back to Universo Vegano for a quick snack where I got drunker than I expected from the Aperol Spritz I got in lieu of the hot chocolate I wanted (they were out) but thoroughly enjoyed the hazelnut croissant (Dan got tiramisu),

then back to the Museo Opera dell’Duomo, the museum connected to the Duomo. The museum is housed within the same building in which Michelangelo carved the David, close to its original intended location (the Duomo) and close to its original actual location (outside the Palazzo Vecchio, former home of the Medici family) and a short walk from its current location (the Galleria dell’Academia). Much to my disappointment they did not have his old workshop preserved or on display even. The museum is instead filled with numerous sculptures, most of which were originally built to be featured inside the Duomo. At some point, the put the original pieces in the more protected museum and replaced them in the Duomo with copies. Items of note we saw included:

- the Gates of Paradise, made by a bunch of famous renaissance artists, none of whom are particularly interesting to me

- Michelangelo’s The Deposition, a statue he originally meant to adorn his tomb. But in typically Michelangelo form he got frustrated with imperfections in the marble and smashed it to pieces, leaving it unfinished before it was reassembled after his death

- An altar piece that had some work done by Verrocchio, Leonardo’s first teacher

Our tickets to the museum also came with admission to the crypt below the Duomo so we circled the massive cathedral looking for the entrance. By the time we found it, I was eager to sit down. We had already walked a LOT. At the museum, they’d made me check my backpack (my tiny little bag), and reinforced that the coat check was “only for the museum”. Well I got to experience some more of that “don’t expect things to make sense in Italy” vibe when they turned me away at the crypt for my backpack again, and offered me no solutions as to where I could check it. So Dan went in without me because I was too irritated to deal with it, and I gave my ticket to another woman who wanted to see the crypt but they were sold out. We never even entertained going into the refractory which we also had access to with our tickets. All we wanted to see was the museum anyway.

From there we went to the nearby Palazzo Vecchio. (No backpacks again! At least they had a locker room I could leave it in. Somehow today is the day we visited all the “no backpack” museums. Annoying.) It’s a very old building and as the Medici family lived there, it’s naturally filled with art. Say what you will about the Médicis, but they put a lot of money into the arts. The 1% don’t do that so much anymore. Thanks to the patronship of the Médicis we have works from the likes of people like Leonardo and Vasari and Botticelli.

Leonardo had been hired by the family to paint the Battle of Anghiari in their great hall, but he got bored and frustrated and moved away from Florence before it was ever finished. The incomplete fresco was then ruined when they expanded the room and it was subsequently painted over by a new fresco. There are theories that some of Leonardo’s work remains underneath, Dan-Brown-style conspiracies fueled by the “look and you shall find” message painted into the new fresco.

We saw about a million and a half paintings by Vasari, the frames all Botticelli, and by the end of the tour experienced what I can only explain as “art fatigue”. When we went to Ireland, every castle sighting illicited excitement. But after a week it was like “cool, ANOTHER castle what’s special about this one…” It’s taken three days in Firenze to have the same feeling about 500 year old paintings and reliefs by the great Italian masters of the renaissance. We were a little overloaded with it, and numbed to the magic. We did see Dante’s alleged death mask-but-probably-just-some-sculpture. And another incomplete Michelangelo. And Machiavelli’s old office when he was the Secretary of Firenze.

We had some time before dinner so we went back to the apartment where we both groaned, collapsed onto soft furniture, and sat in near silence for a half hour before we went back out to dinner.

We opted to return to Nirvana, where we had our first meal in Firenze. I got the ravioli again (no regrets) and Dan got a really tasty tagliatelle with truffle sauce.

We’ve certainly made the most of our time in Firenze. And the location of our apartment was beyond ideal, paid for with shitty wifi and a shower that offered me two whole minutes of hot water that night. I will miss this city.

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ceramicdove · 1 year

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What is your opinion on angels? This is us (you're the three cherubs next to me)

Late (and long) reply because I was inactive for a few days, but good evening, Märchen ♡! This gave me a good giggle. Happy to be 3/6 cherubs.

When you sent this ask, I was actually working on a collage featuring angels, so that was very quaint timing, as well as a silly coincidence.

I am very fond of religious memorabilia and ephemera in general, and angels are very dear to my heart and to the art I both seek and create. I will say that I do have qualms with the famed post-renaissance eurocentric spin on angels (I don't think I have to explain why equating peak beauty, purity, and holy morality with being a frail blonde ivory-skinned blue-eyed virginal maiden is a dangerous thing).

but I do think the concept of angels (including adjacent entities from other religions or myths) is a wonderful thing, and has given birth to stunning works of art, writing, sculpture, etcetera that matter a lot to me. I am also just generally drawn to spiritual matters, so I love seeing how the belief in benevolent entities manifests itself across the world, and how trying to appease or maintain contact with said entities is an almost universal thing across all times and human cultures. I think it's beautiful.

my penchant for angel imagery also definitely goes back to my love for birds...whenever the word "angel" is mentioned, I immediately think of wings and feathers. angels & doves tend to go hand in hand, so...a match made for me!

Some of the most memorable trinkets around my house were these two or three small white porcelain angels. Their faces and hair were simple and indistinct, but as a child, I was very drawn to holding them in my palm and tracing the shape of their wings. I wanted to steal them from the shelf and bring them to my room, but I thought my mother would be upset with me HAHAH! though they are still here :-] I don't think anyone would mind if I took them...

(disclaimer: perhaps this segment would make me sound like a fanatic to someone unfamiliar with my environment, but I'm not even a christian. going to churches as part of tourist trips is incredibly common here. people frequently even go to a location exclusively to admire a church. it's not because I'm #JesusFanNumeroUno.)

on a final note, whenever I visit cathedrals or churches across the country, I always pay attention to all the mural paintings of angels and saints. romania is very orthodox on a general level, so the look of churches can vary quite drastically from that of common catholic design. but I am very fond of the blue walls + gold foil detailing commonly seen in orthodox churches.

The first photo especially is truly breathtaking...I have been to places like that, and I could spend at least half an hour breaking my neck looking up at the paintings (in fact, I already do that). It is very soothing to me.

If you managed to get to the end of this answer, thank you very much for your bravery. I hope my perspective meant something♡.

#🕊️📬#Thank you for asking:)

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fleurcareil · 11 months

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New Brunswick: South Shore

My first break along the highway into New Brunswick was at Grand Falls, where there's benches next to the not-that-grand-but-still-impressive waterfalls. When I was here in 2010, I was stunned to realize that there's an hour time difference between NB & QC but I had now planned my driving schedule accordingly (I did check with the tourist info just to make sure I got it right!😃).

Next stop was for gas in Hartland which boasts to have the longest covered bridge in the world, but instead I found the shortest one besides the gas station 😅, courtesy of the chips factory next door. Getting tired from the driving already, I decided not to search for the long one, as I would undoubtedly see more on my trip (seen two since then).

I had been recommended to take the old highway from Fredericton to Saint John along the river, which was definitely worth it; not only did it have great views but I also suddenly saw something big along the road, thinking "funny, those people put up a statue of a moose on their driveway" (it's quite common to see sculptures of deer, roosters or scarecrows at driveway entrances, presumably to make it easier to find), so I continued at full speed ahead... A few second later, thinking "what if it's not actually a statue??" I slowed down and it turned out to be a real moose after all!! It didn't move, apart from twitching its ears when I got closer and then finally it made a few steps when I had stopped to take a picture. Amazing!!

After getting to the cabin at New River Beach provincial park, I went for a walk along the beach, which has apparently the best sand in the south, and then I sat down with a well-deserved beer & dinner looking out on the Bay of Fundy. It was cold that evening so happy to sit inside a cabin for a change!

Next day there was a thick fog that didn't disappear until 10am, so I made my way to St Andrews warmly dressed but luckily within an hour the sun came through. I spent quite some time at the Kingsbrae Gardens as they were really pretty so will create a separate post with a collage of pictures from there. Walked around the historic downtown (I always love murals!) and had pizza on a bench overlooking the harbour.

I was waiting for the low tide to kick in to drive over to Ministers Island, which can only be accessed by driving over a sandbar. I initially thought it was a bit of a marketing stunt until a car in front of me got stuck in the soft wet sand, so I then made sure to follow someone who seemed to be a local!

The entire island used to be property of Sir William Van Horne, whom I had never heard of, but who was an influential man; not only did he design & construct the railway across Canada (6 years ahead of schedule), he also was key in convincing government to designate national parks (starting with Banff to attract rich tourists for the train, so as usual it was for the money but the environment and us all benefited from it as well 😃) and was an avid painter, Japanese bowl collector, violinist and inventor amongst others. A so-called Renaissance man except that he apparently did not appreciate his daughter, favouring the younger son and grandson instead... So much for being a truly great guy! 😜

Besides the 50-room house, the island contains also a pretty bathhouse with a tidal pool in front of it (with the warm sand heating the incoming tide), a windmill well and a carbide gas generator (for lighting in the house) as well as a 3-storey barn for prize-winning horses and cattle... impressive!

Having made it back to the mainland, I had a great evening with Bob, Diane and their daughter Laura at a delicious Thai restaurant in Saint John... I had met Bob in 2019 when starting a new project for work and wesrayed connected through his son-in-law Duncan who worked for the vendor for several years, we clicked somehow 🤩.

The following day it rained instead of fog 😒 so after having done my laundry I headed to Saint John for sightseeing there. Bob had recommended to visit the Reversing Falls, which are not actual falls so not much to take a photo of, but a location where you can see the water flow upstream against the current when it becomes high tide... the direction of the water seemed wrong though compared to the tidetable, and we later discovered that evening that the bottleneck of the river creates a 2.5 to 4hr delay in the tides between the Reversing Falls and the open harbour less than a kilometer away... It took us some brainstorming over a bottle of wine but we figured out why without Google! 😉

I walked around the City Market, historic streets and Market Square for a bit until the rain started in earnest and then had haddock cakes & a beer at Britt's, a local favorite restaurant.

In the afternoon, I met Duncan and Laura at their home along the Kennebecasis River and had a great time on their boat, seeing tens of jumping sea bass and sturgeon in what is basically their backyard. Being able to work mostly from home in such a place is a luxury beyond words and I'm grateful to have experienced it. Bob & Diane came over for dinner which consisted of great conversations over seared scallops and a traditional lobster boil, my first one! 💖

Having been pampered at their place, I set off in the morning for the last stretch of untamed wilderness along New Brunswick's south shore; the Fundy Trail. Before that however, I met this friendly gentleman who lives at Duck Pond Beach who explained about the history of Split Rock (and who purchased his property at the beach for $10,000 40 years ago!) and had lunch at the St Martins sea caves, passing enroute through a covered bridge 😍

By the time I got to the Fundy trail the rain had changed into a thunderstorm (which always scares me) so I ended up waiting it out for an hour at the interpretative centre & learned about a historic sawmill village. The Fundy trail has tons of impressive nature, including vistas over the shoreline, waterfalls and famous Long Beach which extends for half a kilometer at low tide...better not venture too far out when the tide comes back up! The last stop within the trailway was at the Eye of the Needle Gorge which can be seen from an observation platform high over the valley.

Very last stop of the day was at Cape Enrage, which I had expected to be as wild as the Capes in Newfoundland but this was rather tame and uninteresting as it's managed foremost as a zipline adventure park... the beach nearby was pretty though! After the mostly rainy day, I was happy to sit in the settting sun on the deck of my camping cabin overlooking a little pond 🤗.

This morning I'll briefly visit the Hopewell Rocks, where I've kayaked several years ago at high tide and then walked on the ocean floor at low tide a few hours later. It's very impressive to visualize the tide difference but it's even higher on the other, deeper side of the bay so won't dwell too long here because I can't wait to explore Nova Scotia next!

This is already the end of my second week travelling... distance driven this week: 1729 km

Wildlife: 1 moose (along the road), 2 turkey (Fundy Trail), 1 rabbit (Hopewell Rocks)

SUPs: none

Hikes: 3 small ones but all with stairs or steep uphill 😒 (along the Fundy Trail)

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klaeusd · 1 year

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“mister klaus — if i may call you that! — i must ask a question … which period of art is your favorite? i’m quite curious!”

ㅤㅤhis lips curl into a pleased smile, hands clasped behind his back. ❛ a truly excellent question, love. and please, klaus is fine. ❜ he studies the work before them before continuing. ❛ it would be too cliché of me to say the renaissance, though i did rather enjoy the concept of humanism that emerged during that time. the art itself never truly spoke to me, but i cannot deny its popularization of naturalism was an important milestone for art on the whole. i'm rather partial to the ancient and medieval eras, not for the style but for the way they are akin to a time capsule, giving us a window to peer through and get a glimpse of what the world was like then. where the romanesque and gothic eras lacked in art that garnered my favor, they made up for it sculptures and architecture, which are my favorite of all the eras. ❜ he pauses, realizing he should probably get to the point. ❛ impressionism, ❜ he states, finally actually answering the question. ❛ the break from tradition in european painting was interesting, and the technique of applying the paint in small points of pure color rather reminds me of my childhood and making my own pigments. the vibrancy, emphasis on natural light and softness of the works gives them a wistful, near ... romantic look about them that i find appealing. simply taking a canvas and colors to apply to it and going out to paint landscapes and daily life gets to the heart of what art is - finding beauty in the world and expressing it to others. ❜

#u sent him onto one of his shakespearian rants 😔#also am i assuming theyre at an art gallery? yes. yes i am #answered.#timewound

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skydinzeal · 1 year

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