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#antebellum architecture
pamietniko · 2 months
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♥ Savannah, Georgia
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For the love of southern architecture
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flower-biter · 1 year
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beauty & decay // Aiken-Rhett house, Charleston, South Carolina
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dgspeaks · 10 days
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Savannah’s Southern Charm: Exploring the Hidden Gems of Georgia’s Historic City
Savannah, Georgia, with its antebellum architecture, cobblestone streets, and moss-draped oaks, is a city that exudes Southern charm and hospitality. Beyond its postcard-perfect beauty lies a treasure trove of hidden gems waiting to be discovered. Join us on a journey through Savannah’s rich history, vibrant culture, and culinary delights as we uncover the essence of this beloved Southern…
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Soon after John Y. Brown, Jr. was elected governor of Kentucky, he and his wife, sportscaster Phyllis George, discovered Cave Hill Place, a romantic antebellum mansion in Lexington. With the assistance of R. Wayne Jenkins, the home, built in 1821 by a nephew of Patrick Henry, was totally renovated and decorated in a matter of six short weeks. Lofty pink oaks and maples provide shade for the neo-Federal style residence; its Georgian portico was a 1916 addition.
Celebrity Homes II, 1981
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mattydemise · 8 months
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Nemo me impune lacessit
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stricktlyco · 4 months
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Owens-Thomas House & Slave Quarters. Savannah, Georgia.
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Arlington Antebellum Home and Gardens Birmingham, Alabama July 16, 2022
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artbyjessicajewett · 8 months
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Hi everyone! I wanted to introduce myself. I'm Jessica and I was a previous user of Tumblr before it was bought. I decided to come back.
Today I'm not so much a fandom person (my first account was a Supernatural and Destiel vibe) as I am living my "real" life as an artist, author, historian, and disability rights activist. I'll be 42 in February and I live on the border of Ohio and West Virginia - like, literally on the border. I can almost throw a rock and hit West Virginia from my apartment building. Living here after spending over twenty years in Georgia has been a fresh change. Georgia is not a great place for people with complex disabilities like mine. I get much better medical care and access to state services here in Ohio, which is why I came here. My ancestry is Appalachian anyway, so this does feel like home in a strange way.
My art is what I do the most. This is me doing a commission order a few years ago.
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You're immediately wondering about my disability and why I do everything with the tools in my mouth. I was born with a condition called Arthrogryposis and that just simply means my joints have very little range of motion. Much of my body is stiff. So I taught myself to play with my toys, markers, etc., with my mouth rather than my hands before I could even read or go to school. It was natural for me. I live a happy life and I'm not upset about being born with this disability. You don't have to feel sorry for me because I don't feel sorry for me.
At this stage in my life, I'm working on art commission number 91 with about 50 more on my wait list. My work specializes in black and white pencil portraits, mostly of different historical periods. Most of the art people order from me has to do with my ability to interpret their previous lifetimes (yes, reincarnation) as well as introducing them to their spirit guides. I do regular art with no spiritual complex as well, like family portraits, friends portraits, pet portraits, architecture, fan art, original characters, some fantasy, witchcraft, folk magic, paranormal, historical events, etc. I'm heavily trained in realistic very detailed portraits, so if you're looking for anime or cute illustrations, I'm probably not your woman.
This is the last commission I finished.
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This is an interpretation of that customer's spirit guide as they appeared before they died. This is "my style" of art, as they say. I like to do color art too but I finish black and white orders much faster.
Besides art, I'm a lifelong student of 19th century history in America focusing on women's roles, families, social issues, disability history, and LGBTQIA+ history. I was in school to specifically become an antebellum and Civil War historian before chronic illnesses forced me to drop out. Higher education 20+ years ago was a casserole of nonsense when it came to helping disabled students succeed. Don't get me started.
I'm also a lifelong paranormal researcher focusing mostly on hauntings tied to antebellum and Civil War America including old folklore. My mother and grandmother were Missouri folk magic practitioners. I was raised in an understanding of the unseen world. I also collect reincarnation cases from the Civil War period sparked by my own case from that time. I'll talk about that elsewhere if you want.
Follow me here if you like. I'm just getting started. I have to relearn how to use this app.
-Jessica
Shop: etsy.com/shop/ArtByJessicaJewett
If you're not interested in art, I also accept tips if you enjoy my content. I'm at $ArtByJessicaJewett on CashApp, at Jessica-Jones-1002 on Venmo, and PayPal.me/ArtByJessicaJewett on PayPal.
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dolls-and-cats · 10 months
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Reading American Girl novels about Cécile Rey and Marie-Grace Gardner is the first time I heard about gens de couleur libres (free people of color) in antebellum Louisiana.
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As is true for many of in the #agig community, things that come up in the American Girl books targeted to kids have whetted interests I have as an adult. I'm glad to have read Dr. Tara Dudley's book Building Antebellum New Orleans: Free People of Color, which examines architecture of buildings designed by several prominent architects who were free people of color or buildings that were bought and lived in by this community. It is really cool that some of these 200-year old buildings are still standing. Since I'm in New Orleans this week, I spent some time walking to them.
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The population of free people of color lived here in a time when many African-American people were being enslaved, and some were doing hard labor on plantations in Louisiana. New Orleans also played a role in Texas slavery - in the early 19th century, plantation owners from the US were stopping in New Orleans to write up legal documents that framed their slavery relationships as indentured servitude before going into Texas, to avoid Mexico's ban on slavery (according to Seeds of Empire, Torget). The free people of color lived here at the same time that these other things were going on. Not blocked from education, they thrived, undermining the racist ideology that enslavers were using to justify slavery - and that was happening in the middle of the South and at the height of slavery times.
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The above images are of a house built by free man of color Norbert Soulié in 1830, nearly 200 years ago, and which his aunt lived in. For more information, including a picture, here is this blog post by Dr. Dudley:
https://prcno.org/new-research-explores-free-people-color-built-wealth-community-real-estate/
#cécilerey #mariegracegardner
#gensdecouleurlibres
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Breaking and Entering
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Breaking and Entering 
TW: Extreme smut and degrading language. Gunplay. Language. Violence. 
Be prepared to sweat ;) 
SUMMARY: Overhearing the Pogues discuss how there is gold at Tannyhill, you believe this is a godsend to your problems. But when you try to take a piece, you find the house isn't as empty as you thought and its resident is looking for a specific sort of arrangement.... 
WORD COUNT: 3500
Breaking and Entering 
You had spent the last two days in observation of Tannyhill in preparation for tonight. Kissed by the shadows of your chosen cover aided by the shield of well trimmed shrubs, you pulled yourself beyond the antebellum architecture and before the set of French doors before pausing. The words overheard between JJ Maybank and Kiara Carrera having reminded you why you were about to commit a felony. 
"400 million in gold..." Of course you wouldn't try for it all as it would be reckless, greedy, and impossible. But the thought of just a handful of those bronzed bars would erase your financial tribulations.
 No more double shifts at the wreck just to still fall short every month. No more cocked brows from Kooks or whispers of your soiled reputation from parents who had you too young and expected too much. All you had to do was findfinf the gold and leave before anyone came back home. It should have been rather simple as you knew for certain that the entire Cameron clan had been present at a fundraiser for the evening as you had even watched them leave half an hour prior. But as you stood at the door, contemplating if it would be worth it, the sight of such gaudy imagery before you in the form of marble statues and priceless paintings made visible by the lights from generators The Cut still couldn't afford, you pulled the bobby pin from your hair and bent it to commit to your crime. 
Following a few tries, you heard a satisfying click that left a cushion of arrogance to your self inflating ego in pride, having only ever done this to your diary when you'd lost the key. But now, it gave you access to what could be the cessation to all of your problems. Your dead end job. Your shitty home life. Your lack of a childhood ruined by negligence and gaslighting. All of it was at the edge of dissipation, prompting you forward through the plantation. 
Without the need of a flashlight as a few corridor lights were left in illumination for when they'd come home, you crept through the estate room-by-room, unsure exactly what it was you were in search of. You wondered if the gold had been in duffle bags like in the movies had done with cash in cliche hand offs or maybe even in crates in preparation to be shipped. Either way, you were well aware it would be stored in something quite obvious and so you continued to search. 
It would take the better part of an hour to walk the extent of the rooms, finding each one more lavish than the last. Decorations making you scoff as you traced your fingers on the flawless statuettes or the golden frames, disgusted at how 'the other half' spent their money. As you could imagine just one piece of art being enough to supply electricity to the Cut, the sound of a gun cocking behind you brought your feet rooted to the floor. 
"Something I can help you with?" You recognized the tone at your back as having belonged to the eldest Cameron, Rafe. You knew it well as it frequented The Wreck along with fellow kooks for the Carrera's homestyle favorites, but he made it his sole mission to taunt anything below a six figure income. And yet, a portion of him always mystified you for the darkness held behind such stunning eyes-that did nothing to make up for his misogynistic and cruel personality. 
"Both hands..." He demanded as you obliged, well aware Rafe Cameron may just be psychotic enough to pull the trigger for you simply being in the way. The thought made you acquiesce against your usual natural desire for a rebuttal as you obeyed with momentary hesitance. 
"Turn around-slowly!" He corrected, dominance dripping behind his honeyed tone cracked with a vague southern drawl behind specific words of his low cadence. 
But once you did, his brows lifted into amusement. 
"Another dirty Pogue trying to take something that doesn't belong to them? What is it? Huh?" He began moving towards you, gun kept towards you as if it was nothing more than a weightless boost to his ego. 
"My sister's clothes? My father's watches? The keys to The My Druthers?" He teased, listing the things you 'pogues' only dreamed of owning. But in the time his taunting had been uttered, your eyes found a secondary exit that sent you barreling towards the route before feeling him apprehend you. He was expectedly rough, one hand remaining on the butt of his glock as the other took you by your waist until you were pinned just beside the door. 
"So, tell me...what was it you were here for? Maybe we can work something out-" He teased, eyes falling down the dip of your tee shirt cropped by a pair of scissors to amend this summer's specific heat. His gaze continued to the jean skirt wrapped by a roped belt and the curves of your hips left exposed to what you believed would only be the nighttime air. 
But when he took the gun to further reveal you to him, you pulled every ounce of spit you could in such a short collection of time, before sending it in his direction. His second hand now came to your jaw, forcing you to collide harshly to the panel at your back as he lifted the gun to your jaw. 
Once your eyes found him beyond attempts to evade, you noticed a sense of hesitancy or maybe even regret in those damned blue irises. You decided to play this to your strengths as you were certain he wouldn't let you leave anyhow. 
"Are you gonna do it, Rafe?" His jaw clenched as his grip loosened on your chin when addressing him. "You gonna pull that trigger?" 
"You don't think I will?" He spat behind his teeth tensing that much tighter. 
"Go ahead then-" He was taken aback by your request, almost taking a literal step in retraction to your words. 
"We both know you won't let me just leave...not that I have anything to go back TO so do it...You'd be doing me a favor-" You called his bluff as his expression fixated on you as if suddenly became the most interesting specimen ever presented to him. Because of this, his tongue separated his lips in a pensive pause before he slowly nodded. 
"I don't want to hurt you-" You didn't care to hide your bewilderment as he bowed over you, gun falling between your thighs. 
"But I do want to make you scream..." The cold metal of the weapon brought your skin to react in an immediate chill, born out of both fear and exhilaration-the latter rejected by any fragment of your common sense. 
"Go to hell-" You charged at him, being forced back against the wall, knee moving higher to keep you in place. 
"Unless...there was another reason I shouldn't call the police...I'm sure they'd love having a smart assed pogue to entertain them tonight..." You sharpened your glare at him as the thoughts of the consequences of your actions. The bruises you just had fade following the last time you faced your father's disappointment. The tears nearly drowning you to sleep and the immediate envy that came from people like Rafe never knowing these kinds of troubles. At least you assumed so…
"Just let me go-" You grunted, your pleas seemingly ignored, if not endorsing his amusement as his grin widened against you. The snicker setting his otherwise aesthetically pleasing features into a twist only kept your attention for a second as your eyes scanned for an alternative exit. But between the gun, his threats, and his grip, you were at his mercy. 
"Ah ah! Don't even think about it-" He warned once, noticing the shift behind your eyes.
 "I think we can have a bit of fun-" His head came to a cock as he continued to trace your exposed skin with the nuzzle of the weapon, returning you to stiffen at the danger waged against you. 
"Since you don't want to talk..." He led the weapon against your lips, drawing them to part with the gun's edge before widening his grin. 
"Suck." His command forced your eyes to widen. When your lips remained tight, he forced them apart with his thumb, slipping the gun between your reserved part. 
"Suck." He ordered again, forcing it throughout your mouth more than basking in your acceptance of it, before now leading it between your legs. The tip fondling your folds to which you allowed between curiosity and fear, made you repress a shudder as you didn't want to offer him the satisfaction. 
"Shit...You're a dirty little slut aren't you-" 
"I'm not a slut!" 
"Only sluts get wet from guns..." He explained, showcasing your slick on the edge of the weapon. 
"This turns you on? Yeah?" He set it back between your lower lips, finding it to glide easily between your thighs by your hesitant consent as his eyes bloomed in awe. 
"Nobody fucking you right on The Cut?" You turned your face away from him, hoping it would be enough to hide the blush from your cheeks. In truth, it has been far too long since you were appreciated as a woman, finding your only release to be rather anticlimactic at the end of your own tiring fingertips. You convinced yourself this was why you allowed this, but if you were honest, a part of you was always curious to be with Rafe in this way. If not for his muscles you couldn't help but notice flex quite naturally, then maybe in the way he was confident with fearlessness. It was annoying but enough to allow him more than what he deserved. 
"Slutty little pogue thinks she can come in here and steal and there won't be consequences?" He tsked his tongue. 
"Stupid girl." His hand was now harshly in your hair, the gun pushing your panties to the side, teasing your opening. The ridge from the gun made you clench immediately as it was used to tease you, your eyes closing in anticipation as he forced your head further back by his grip. 
"Did you come here for this?" He taunted, fingers finding your panties, pulling them aside, and producing a series of tentative circles to your aching clit. You wanted to push him away, to yell, to hit him-but your body betrayed these attempts. His fingertips were eager in a way you had never felt from another man, but also gentle, an adjective that seemed wrong when describing him, and yet, true. 
"I could make you cum so hard that they'll hear you back at the cut..." His fingers suddenly withdrew, replaced by the weapon once again. 
"But you're being less than accommodating..." You were left irritated and breathless from a touch you didn't want to believe you needed. And yet, you dripped for it-for him...the sociopath holding a gun to you! And yet it was a detail that only seemed to excite you at the thought. 
"Unbuckle me." Your eyes fell to the belt I question as you refused, grip tightening and gun pressed harder into you, making you wince to its threat to penetrate you. 
"I want those dirty little hands around my cock, convincing me you're better suited here than in jail for the night...go on pogue...convince me..." He spoke with a chuckle as you only glared, objectivism sending you into a further rebellion. 
"Or I could make sure your life becomes real hard-" His promised grievance set your fingers directly into his pants, bypassing the pleasantries of a slow burn. Instead, you optioned for the shock factor, but it would backfire as you were almost eager to feel him. Too eager. 
He was impressive in his makeup, making you throb at how he would feel inside of you, the guilt for wanting him for even a second deepening as you began to stroke him. 
The way his eyes rolled into a close set your pulse unsteadily erratic as you continued to pump him into pleasure. Twisting and squeezing, it was just the distraction needed to suddenly gain the upper hand. Much to his dismay, this trained wrist brought him to an edge only you could offer before you stunned him by using it to take hold of the weapon. His eyes blew wide, expressing those lust-lorn irises as if he was deserving of this, whether you were to pull the trigger or not. It was this very look that you realized he hid behind his arrogance as he was truly a fractured soul. A twin flame to your own emotional decay. 
Understanding things would never be the same either way, you found the way he watched you, a mix between awe and anticipation, that you decided to ride the wave of your want. Pointing the edge of the gun at his chest, the rage of his heart in an unusual pattern, both aroused and alarmed, you now made demands of your own. 
"Get on your knees, Rafe Cameron." The devilish smirk widened across his face as your fingers teased your thigh, hinting at what you wanted. 
Prior to now, you held no knowledge of Rafe's sexual past as you rarely saw him with any girl aside from his sister, and that was usually for appearances or tension. But you were too curious, too deprived, and too exhilarated to ignore this need, borderline obsessive, throbbing against your sense of reason. 
"Such a pretty mouth...know how to use it?" You taunted, tone cold, but eyes on fire for what you craved. He obliged, lowering to his knees before escorting one of your own at rest over his shoulder. Silently, he pulled your panties to the side to expose your soaked core, reservation in protest proving futile to your natural instinct. 
"Mmm..." You hummed at the skill of his tongue, greedy yet thorough to you. He was just as much a giver as a receiver, eyes excitable at the thought of either, as his gaze remained to you, your body relaxed at the surge of pleasure gifted by him. Your mind berated you but became silenced by your hips rocking into him. Rather quickly however, he pulled his arm across your waist to keep you flat, carrying his thumbs into a set comfort to divide your folds to him. The flicks produced by his tongue left you manic, lips parted in pant, chest rising in uneven patterns, eyes rolling only to shoot open in the times he teased your clit with a cruel bite or sudden suck. 
But just as you had done to him, he only acquiesced to gain the upper hand. Yet, he didn't regain control of the gun to use it against you. Instead, he threw it out of view and turned you against the wall. In seconds, your skirt was around your ankles and the chime of his buckle informed you of his own undressing. 
"Nobody can hear you...but I want to-" He took hold of his rigidity, a sudden pressure splitting feeling as if it would tear you apart. You grinned at the idea of him existing so arrogant because of this, a 'this' whose extent bottomed out within you and forced a wince. 
"Yeah, you like that, pogue? Huh?" He took hold of your hair, using this grip to force you to look at him. 
"You're gonna take all of me like a good little slut...Every. Fucking. Inch." He delivered harder thrusts with each word, making you cling onto the frame of the door in desperation. 
"If you cum, I'm gonna force you on your knees and finish in that smartass mouth of yours-Got it?" When you whimpered, he pulled you even further against him. "Answer me, bitch-" Your lips parted. 
"Okay!" 
"Good girl-" He nearly purred into your ear, your eyes rolling into a close. 
"Rafe...Rafe please!" Your pleas were only fuel to his arrogance as he chuckled behind you. 
"That's right. Beg me. Fucking slut...MY slut." This possession left you to groan, something about it driving you deeper into your descent into carnality. 
"You wanna cum? You know I could make you...yeah?" 
"Yes Rafe! Please! It feels so fucking good-" 
"Does it?" He teased, sucking in a sharp breath as you moved against him, purposely clenching around him to try and torment him as he did to you. But when he only pushed you harder into the wall in deeper thrusts, your fingers dove to your throbbing clit as his hand moved into his possession in a quick grasp. 
"You are such a greedy little thing aren't you? You know...patience is a virtue, baby....But you just can't wait...can you?" 
"No! Please!" Tears began a crusade down your cheeks, desperation making you nearly limp. 
"You don't deserve to feel me. I'm gonna finish in your mouth. Do a good job, maybe I'll let you cum..." Just the idea of a release sent you to obey as your hair was granted reprieve from his harsh grip before he pushed you down in guidance to your shoulders. 
"You try anything and you'll be sorry, yeah?" You didn't agree or disagree, just simply took him within your mouth. Nearly pornographic moans left behind his breathing, your throat never really growing accustomed to him as he trusted within you. Fingers exchanging between your hair and your neck, you continued to pump him from the reaction of his body. When he quickened, you slowed and vice versa, all to bring him to that precipice in withdrawal. 
"Get up!" He ordered, leading you against him, half bent in his arms as one hand dove between your legs and the other kept you to him with a hand around your throat. 
"I'm gonna make you so sore. For lying to me. For denying me- for being so fucking needy and impatient-" 
His fingers to your clit were merciless, painful in the best way, as you allowed him to abuse your desperate cunt. Removing his touch from this stimulation to penetrate you once again, he returned his fingers to your clit, quick whisps of ovals made against you. 
"Gonna beg for me you little pogue slut? Gonna let me cum inside this tight little pussy to make it up to me?" 
You could only nod, his hand around your throat tightening from your silence. 
"You feel so fucking tight...been needing this, huh?" He teased as you bobbed again, this time, feeling his hand lower from your throat and onto your breast. 
"Fuck..." He clenched a painful grip onto your chest, in what would leave bruising, as he wrestled his lips to your ear. 
"You should thank me for being so nice...You don't deserve this. You're greedy. You're needy. You're not even worth a conversation. But you are gonna take it. All of it-all of me-" 
"Yes!" You belted out your first orgasm tearing through his penetration and allowing him even easier access within you. The reservation of a tense pussy now eased by this orgasm, coursed  the overstimulation of your clit. Your hand quickly wrapped around his wrist. 
"It's It's much!" 
"I don't care." He confessed. "I'm not done-" He continued, never faltering in his fingers or his dirty words as they only continued to fuel you as well. 
"Earn this cum, baby...clench around me-" You obeyed, between needing another release or granting him his so he would stop. 
"That's it...my good little whore with this tight little pussy gonna make me cum...right?" 
"Yes, Rafe!" 
"Yeah, yeah-like that...take it bitch..." He grunted. 
"More!" He was brought to the edge from your words as your fingers wrapped around to his ass. 
"Ugh!" He breathed behind you, his hand extending to the table lining the nearby wall to steady himself. 
"Im gonna you're making me- fuck fuck fuck! Shit!" He expelled his load, bringing your release along with him. His sudden neglect to hold you sent you into the table as you held yourself up with shaking legs, feeling synonymous to jelly. 
"Rafe..." You breathed in confusion as he now held the gun under your chin, second hand in a grip in your hair. 
"Please...I'll go...I won't say anything," He only scoffed at your teary eyed plea. 
"I don't think so..." He grinned. "I think I'll keep you for a bit..." His words exhilarated you, despite the ache still present between your thighs. 
"Come on-" He pulled you into the direction of the steps. 
"Where...where are we going?" He hesitated for a second, handing you your panties. 
"You said it yourself, you have nothing here...So you're gonna keep me entertained in Barbados-" 
"Barbados?!" 
"Going for business, but you're coming for my pleasure..." 
And you were. 
Willingly. 
Excitedly. 
Eagerly.
 His...
Taglist: @hopebaker
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pamietniko · 2 years
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southern gothic
Savannah, Georgia
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stargir1z · 4 months
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andrew wyeth, "christina's world" (1948) / carrie mae weems, "a distant view: malus-beauregard house" (2003) from the louisiana project series
"Clothed in period costume, Weems’s figure is spectral and suggests the force of cultural haunting. For Weems, history inheres in architectural forms and in the bodies of living human beings who descend from and inherit the as yet unresolved terms of settler colonialism. The Louisiana Project juxtaposes antebellum buildings that have been kept pristine into the twenty-first century with industrial spaces—landscapes scarred by rusting gas tanks, railroads, and mass-produced housing for impoverished and African American residents. Her photographs transform our way of seeing, challenging conventions of architectural photography by inserting her own body as witness figure. She observes these architectures from the implied perspective of a ghost, her gaze a critique of longstanding structures of racism." x
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flower-biter · 1 year
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The Nathaniel Russell house, Charleston, South Carolina xx
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johnschneiderblog · 1 year
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Steeped in history
Sharon and I made the 100-mile drive to Charleston Thursday to meet a couple of cousins for lunch and take a long stroll through history.
It’s a fascinating city, full of natural beauty, graceful antebellum architecture and cobblestone streets.  As for Charleston’s history, one day isn’t enough time to even scratch the surface.
In Battery Park, for example, with its cannons pointed into Charleston Harbor, you can see Fort Sumter off in the distance. You can stand on the water’s edge and contemplate the events of April 12, 1861, when Confederate troops from nearby Fort Johnson attacked Federal troops on Sumpter, officially starting the Civil War.
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oscartheghost · 1 year
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the plinky fucking romcom music they've got playing in the background of the s1 e3 opening scene where Lestst is being an absolute tourist about the local architecture/history and Louis is like "yeah v recently this was the site of antebellum horrors you can't imagine but I definitely can" is just chefs kiss
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