#i love jan matejko

[unhonestlymirror]

Jan Matejko was like: Mmmm half-naked Samogitians😏😏😏😏🔥🔥🔥🔥

Meanwhile, how Samogitians most likely looked back then:

#i love jan matejko #he didn't give a single fuck about historical accuracy and still became an icon #Polish art #Grunwald battle #Samogitia #Poland #Lithuania

[przdwiosnie]

Helena Matejko by Jan Matejko, circa 1883

#jan matejko #i am in love with this painting???????

[polish-art-tournament]

the grand final

My i wojna:

see the og propaganda for us and the war here

Stańczyk:

see the og propaganda for stańczyk here

[the tags in PL read: #i don't know what i will do if stańczyk loses #it's very timeless and that's what i love about it #the nobles partying while the country is tumbling down #what more could you wish for]

and of course:

HAVE FUN EVERYONE

#jan matejko #stańczyk #edward okuń #symbolism #poland #round 4 #polls

[bloodycoucou]

Astarion as the sad jester by Jan Matejko. The magistrate has just received threats from the Gur. I loved painting this!

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #artwork #painting

[yomkippur]

it's funny. it's funny! you're gonna laugh at it later.

roman roy, my favorite guy with SO many issues

mary ruefle,"woodtangle"

trickstersaint, “apostate”

charles wright, "clear night"

sunflowerdigs

fatima aamer bilal, "i am tired of making a religion out of my suffering"

haruki murakami, norwegian wood

lucille clifton, "climbing"

mischievous.dog

jan matejko, stańczyk

fatima aamer bilal, "i mother it the absence of her, iii. i am not a person that can be loved for a very long time"

tullipsink, "desperation sits heavy on my tongue"

i can't find the source for this one oops

mitski, "i bet on losing dogs"

ojibwa

margaret atwood, "speeches for dr. frankenstein"

naomi shihab nye, "hidden"

mitski, "i don't smoke"

elena ferrante, those who leave and those who stay

chaosinline

kiki nicole, NOBODY'S DAUGHTER

micah nemerever, these violent delights

rainer maria rilke, rilke's book of hours: love poems to God

tory adkisson, anecdote of the pig

dhole b., "domestication syndrome"

gillian flynn, sharp objects

amatullah bourdon, "and my father's love was nothing next to God's will"

discountgospel

trista mateer, "ask again later"

the mountain goats, "hast thou considered the tetrapod"

#roman roy you will always be famous to ME #sorry this is so mfing long btw. this is my roman roy thesis statement #roman roy #logan roy #gerri kellman #kendall roy #succession #gerriroman #romangerri #idk which one’s right #web weaving #my posts #long post #so so fucking long whoops #abuse //

[totowlff]

the encounter

➝ a painting, an agent and a crime. sounds good, no?

➝ word count: 3,9k

➝ warnings: descriptions of crimes, reader being clumsy

➝ author’s note: i finally felt safe enough to post this story. it's a more or less alternative universe, since it has some real things (i'd love to know your bets). hope you like it.

It was an ugly, gloomy day in Vienna, and you found yourself sitting in the cafe you tended to frequent these days. As far as anybody knew, and as far as you told anybody, it was a nice place to come and work during the day, so almost every day for the past few weeks, you sat in your usual seat by the window and sipped coffee as you ostensibly worked on something important on your laptop. As far as anybody asked, the cafe was comfortable enough and it was fairly close to your apartment, and you simply weren’t quite as productive when you were working at home. That’s what you told people, along with the fact that you worked in finance.

You weren’t working on anything at the moment, because your mind was elsewhere, and your eyes were fixed on something across the street from the cafe. You were staring at an old antique shop, with a dark green facade and gold lettering across its front window. You were watching the people inside, talking animatedly, trying to imagine what they were speaking about.

— Maria — you heard someone say. The name was familiar, after all, that was the name that was listed in the identity documents that your boss handed to you in a manila envelope a few weeks earlier, along with an investigation report. Hearing the name brought you back to when he was briefing you on the operation, which had been named “Królowa”, a reference to the object of the investigation. You had been assigned to search for information on a triptych painted by the Polish master painter, Jan Matejko, that depicted a procession accompanying the Virgin Mary and the Baby Jesus to a cathedral in Kraków.  

The triptych was considered a lost Polish national treasure, stolen from its most recent owner during the Nazi occupation. Previous investigations into its whereabouts dragged on for years, buried in the files of the Europol, based in The Hague, in the Netherlands. When you started working there, almost a decade earlier, the case was stuck on a cold lead about the piece's last owner, Count Hieronim Tarnowski, a Polish aristocrat.

The last documented whereabouts of the triptych was within Montelupi Palace in Kraków, which was owned by the Tarnowski family. However, the palace and all of its contents were expropriated by Nazi command in 1942, before the interior of the Palace was consumed by fire. From then on, there was nothing further documented about the of the painting. It and some other cultural treasures seized by the Nazis were long considered lost by the Polish government and Europol. That is, until one day, you found something that made you dig deeper into the case.

You were doing some research for another art theft case when you found an open thread about Matejko on an art forum. While you were reading praise for the painter's work, you came across a photo posted by a user called Piter1974 that caught your attention.

It was a photo of the triptych, clearly taken with a modern camera given the quality and colors of the image. They contrasted sharply with the images attached to the investigation that you had as reference, which had been taken from pre-war catalogs. The only existing photos of the work were all in black-and-white, taken with early 20th century cameras. You did some cursory checking on the authenticity of the image, and didn't hesitate to print it out. You placed it on your boss’ desk with an air of confidence. 

— What is that? — your boss, a burly, perpetually grumpy Frenchman named Romeo, asked.

— It’s Matejko’s triptych.

He looked unconvinced as he cocked an eyebrow. 

— Came to show me your Photoshop skills? The colors look nice, but…

— I didn't color this photo.

Romeo blinked.

— Do you mean…

— It's a recent image — you said, proudly — The EXIF data shows that it was taken on October 6, 2022.

— Where did you find this?

— On an internet forum. A user posted this in a discussion thread about Jan Matejko's works.

— You…

— It’s not AI or Photoshop. I checked, Romeo — you replied, smiling — The triptych still exists!

Your discovery led to the case being reopened, with the image being examined pixel-by-pixel for any inconsistencies, and your findings being verified. The EXIF data buried in the picture not only showed the date, but it showed what kind of camera the image had been taken by, which was a high-end professional model popular with archivists and museum curators for taking high-quality images suitable for cataloging. 

You felt frustration wash over you. The trail seemed to have gone cold again, after all, how many art galleries were there in the world? It was like you were looking for a needle in a haystack.

But again, fortune smiled on you. While analyzing an old catalog of Jan Matejko's works written by a Polish author, you came across new information about the triptych's whereabouts. According to the catalog’s author, after being confiscated by the Nazis, the triptych briefly reappeared in the 1960s, in the inventory of a well-known antiques shop in central Vienna. Your relief was short-lived when you saw the name of the shop’s owner. 

“Of course Bednarczyk is involved in this”, you thought to yourself, letting out a long sigh.

Czesław Bednarczyk was an old acquaintance of the Polish justice system. He had been a notorious smuggler, taking vast amounts of Poland’s cultural treasures and gold abroad, most of it to be sold in his antique shop in central Vienna, on the Dorotheergasse. 

Despite the mountain of evidence against him, the antiquarian never faced justice for his crimes, nor did his reputation within the art world suffer. When he died in the late 90s, the funeral was attended by great figures from the industry, all paying their respects to the patriarch's family, who worked to preserve his legacy to this very day. 

Bednarczyk's antique shop was taken over by his eldest daughter, Elisabeth. She was known for being one of the leading experts on Viennese porcelain, which kept her from being a major suspect. However, you thought, that didn't mean the place couldn't be involved in some way, as other Matejko pieces had been sold by the Bednarczyks over the years. And so, you went to Vienna with a false identity and a single objective: find the triptych.

After arriving in the city and settling into the apartment that would be your base, you tried to investigate the surroundings of Dorotheergasse, the narrow lane where the antique shop was located. In short order, you found the perfect place to monitor movements in and out of the shop without raising any suspicion — a cafe next to the Jewish Museum across the street. — Maria — the voice repeated, making you wake up from your thoughts. You glanced over your shoulder, finding the friendly smile of Kristina, the cafe's barista — Is everything okay?

— Yes, everything’s fine — you replied quickly, fumbling to hide the fact that you had forgotten that was the name you’d given to the waitress — Why?

— Oh, you… Called me over to place your order, but when I asked you what you wanted, you didn't say anything...

You felt your own cheeks heat up.

— Sorry, Kristina, I was distracted…

— By the antique shop?

You were apparently being too obvious. You wished the ground would swallow you whole.

— Well, no… Not exactly…

— Oh, I’m not surprised.  — Kristina laughed — When you said you had just moved to an apartment nearby, I sort of figured you had an eye for art and antiques.

— But, how?

The barista chuckled.

— I mean, you’ve seen the kind of people that come in here. It’s only old people or people that are crazy about art, and you’re obviously not old.

You smiled, trying to hide your discomfort at feeling so transparent.

— I do like art — you lied — My parents had a lot of pieces at home, like sculptures, porcelain...

— Oh, that shop has a ton of those things.

You raised your eyebrow. 

— Have you ever been inside?

— Yes. I got curious about it and went after work one day.

— Did you talk to anyone there?

Kristina was clearly taken aback by your interest.

— Oh, yes, I talked to a man, he…

— Alexander? — you asked, taking a few seconds to realize that, in your eagerness to find out more about the Bednarczyks, you were close to showing your hand.

— No, his name was something else — she replied, with suspicion on her face — Who’s Alexander? 

In truth, you knew that Elisabeth had a son named Alexander. According to the case’s dossier, he was a specialist in contemporary art and responsible for numerous sales of works to foreign galleries and museums. If the triptych had left the antique shop heading abroad, it likely would have passed through Alexander's hands.

— Well, like I said, my parents like art and I remembered they bought a few pieces from a shop in Vienna run by a man named Alexander — you said, trying to cover your tracks  — I thought it could be him, but I think it's unlikely, come to think of it. After all, how many art and antique shops are in a city this size, right?

After staring at you for a few seconds, Kristina smiled.

— Unlikely, maybe, but not impossible. I imagine the art world isn’t a very big one, after all. 

You went back to focusing on the antique shop. You had noticed some movement near the door and you were trying to pay attention to whoever was leaving, when Kristina cleared her throat.

— Yeah? — you muttered.

— Do you still want something?

Looking at the table, you noticed that your espresso cup was empty, as was the plate full of crumbs from the chocolate cake you had devoured after lunch.

— I think another espresso — you replied. With a nod Kristina walked away from your table, while you looked again at the door of the antique shop as two blonde women came out of the shop’s door. Both of them were talking animatedly and had boxes in their hands.

Just then, you’d decided you’d spent enough time over the past few weeks watching and waiting — you had to see what was inside. 

The next day, the plan was already drawn up in your head. You would go into another antique shop in a different part of Vienna and buy something made of porcelain, something that seemed to be antique. And then, you would go into the Bednarczyk’s shop to try and have it appraised. It belonged to your mother, you would tell them, and you wanted to find out what they could tell you about it and see if it could be restored. Anything to buy more time.

You’d let the staff at the shop talk to you, you knew what questions to ask to not seem like you knew nothing about the pieces, but what to avoid asking to not show that you knew too much. While you were talking to them, whoever they were, you would try to work in a way to ask about any Matejko pieces they knew of.

Your plan was hastily arranged, but it seemed like it should be perfect.

You found another antique shop in Ottakring, across the city, and bought the first porcelain piece you spotted that you knew was old enough to seem like a treasured family heirloom. You thought it would be a good idea to stop by the cafe first and have an espresso to settle your nerves before heading into Bednarczyk’s.

You walked down the street to the direction of the antique store with the box containing the little sculpture in your hands, confident this would be a big step forward in the investigation of the tryptich’s whereabouts. 

As you were glancing toward the shop’s entryway, you let your attention slip for a moment, crashing into the back of the man who was walking ahead of you. The box in your hand slipped and fell toward the ground, the muffled tinkling of shattering porcelain coming from inside the box. You immediately sank to the ground and lifted the flaps on the top of the box.

— No, no, no, fuck — you said, seeing the ballerina you bought reduced to a pile of shards.

— Shit — the man said from above you. When you looked up, you realized that you had stumbled into a man with dark hair and brown eyes, who were fixed on what was once a small porcelain statue — I'm sorry, I didn't see you coming in behind me…

— No, it's okay — you murmured, trying to hide your displeasure at having broken the piece. You had chosen the porcelain ballerina precisely because you knew that it was old enough to be of interest to Elisabeth. However, you couldn’t exactly get her to appraise a pile of dust — Isn’t a big deal...

— From your reaction, it seemed like something important — the man said, as you closed the box quickly and stood up — I’m so sorry. I hope it wasn’t a family heirloom.

You looked up at him, pressing your lips together as you realized how tall he was. “Focus… Maria”, you thought to yourself, feeling your face heat up. You couldn't let your cover identity slip.

— Yeah, it was. I had brought it to see if there was somewhere that could appraise it, maybe restore it, but… I don’t think there’s much to be done about it now.

Looking at the box, the man seemed to think for a few seconds, before looking up at you again.

— Well, if you want, I can find something else to give you instead. I’ll pay for it.

— I don’t… 

— That won't replace the sentimental value, no, but it's the least I can do, considering your little ballerina is broken because of me.

You hesitated for a few seconds. You didn’t want to involve another person in your investigation, especially an innocent bystander that made you feel a strange heat in your chest and a strange flush in your cheeks. However, before you realized it, you were following him down the street, the box with the porcelain shards in your hands, into the front door of the Bednarczyks' antique shop.

He opened the door and motioned politely for you to walk in first, which you did, unable to hide the shy smile on your face. The man closed the door behind him as you approached one of the shelves. It was stocked with a huge assortment of miscellaneous knicknacks - silver candelabras, ceramic vases, sets of different glasses and jars, all polished and carefully arranged. Your eyes landed on a velvet box on one of the middle shelves, and you couldn’t resist the compulsion to step forward and carefully tilt open the lid, trying to see what was inside.

— It's a set of silver flatware — a female voice said behind you. You turned around with a start to see a short, blonde woman with kind brown eyes staring at you. She smiled — Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. Mr. Wolff asked me to come assist you.

— Mr. Wolff? — you asked, confused.

— The gentleman who came in with you.

You were still confused, wondering how she knew the other customer’s name. 

— By any chance — you started, stopping when you felt someone touch you shoulder.

— Ah, you found Petra, excellent — the man, apparently Mr. Wolff, said — Petra, could you show us the porcelain?

The woman nodded and directed you to another set of shelves, chatting about , the woman guided you between the shelves, chatting about the store's new arrivals. However, your mind was occupied with trying to remember if you’d ever seen the name Wolff anywhere in the case files. The man seemed to be too familiar with the staff to be just another customer. You remembered reading about Elisabeth, her son, Alexander, and Alexander’s wife, Amy. However, you didn't remember any man with the surname Wolff.

— Here is our selection of porcelain. I'll leave you to choose what you would like — Petra said, with a smile.

— Thank you very much, Petra. As soon as we choose, we will call you.

With a nod, Petra walked away, leaving the two of you alone in front of the shelves filled with figurines, cups, teapots and porcelain vases. After a few seconds of silence, you finally looked at the man next to you.

— Mr. Wolff, is it? — you asked, the tone of your voice causing a smile to appear on his lips.

— Well, yes. Torger Wolff. But you can call me Toto.

Something about what he said made you smile.

— Toto, like the dog in The Wizard of Oz?

— I would say like Toto Rina, the Italian mafioso, but most people think of the dog first — Toto said, without taking his eyes off you — And you, what's your name?

You hesitated for a few seconds.

— Maria.

— Just Maria?

— Maria Bauer.

Toto chuckled.

— Ah, a fairly common name, no? — he asked. “It had to be something from the idiots in the operations department”, you thought to yourself, giving a wry smile.

— My parents weren’t the most creative…

— In my case, they were too creative — he said, looking at the shelf again — I suppose you’re not not from Vienna?

His question made you swallow hard.

— No, I'm not. I moved here not long ago. How did you know?

— Your accent — Toto replied — I'd say you're from the south, maybe. Graz?

— Klagenfurt — you said. That’s what was in your identity document. You hoped he wasn't familiar with the accent there, since you were sure that the Dutch and English you were used to speaking on a daily basis with your co-workers was present in the way you slurred some syllables.

— But you've lived abroad, haven't you?

— Why do you ask?

— Your accent doesn’t sound like a Southern accent. I have an acquaintance from near there, but his accent is a bit different. 

— My mother is Dutch — you lied, almost in an attempt to stop that interrogation — So, I grew up listening to her accent and ended up picking it up.

— Ah, yes, I understand — he said, giving a gentle smile.

Turning your attention to the shelf, you tried to focus on the china in front of you, trying to decide which piece would be the most similar to the one he had broken. Not that it mattered much, but one did catch your eye. It was a figure of two people - a man and a woman, sitting next to a column, with the woman holding a rose and the man holding a basket of flowers on his lap. It was romantic, and oddly endearing.— Did you like this one? — Toto asked.

— Yeah — you replied, your fingers brushing the top of the porcelain column, where there was a small hole to hold a few flowers  — It's very beautiful.

— I agree. 

— With such a renowned expert curating the collection, it's not surprising — you said, taking the porcelain figure in your hands.

— Oh, do you know of Elisabeth? — he asked. You glanced over to Toto to find that he had a curious expression, like something you said made an impression.

Maybe you’d already said too much.

You’d betrayed the fact that you were not from Vienna and had recently moved to the city, leaving you no acceptable excuse to explain how you knew who owned the shop you were in. It wasn’t as if she was well-known outside of very specific Viennese society and academic circles — No, I don't know her — you said, giggling nervously.

— So how do you know she curates the porcelains here?

— Well, like I said, I recently moved and I'm still cleaning up my apartment, so I'm working from the cafe across the street — you lied, trying to sound as calm as possible  — And, one day, I noticed the antique shop across the street and looked up some information about it online. My parents collect art - mostly these porcelain figures, so I thought I’d bring in one of their older pieces to have it appraised and restored, since she seemed like the best person to do it.

— Of course, the internet — he said, laughing — What's not on the internet nowadays, right?

— Right? You can find anything — you smiled, feeling your heart pounding. He seemed to buy it, but you couldn’t guarantee that you’d be so lucky next time. 

After asking if you liked the piece you were holding and calling Petra to confirm your choice, Toto asked you to stay there, before heading towards the counter at the back of the shop together with Petra.

Watching him talk to Petra, you started feeling guilty. You had only just met Toto and you already felt terrible about lying to him, which made you feel even worse, as feeling such strong emotions about telling lies was an occupational liability for you. But still, he had nothing to do with the investigation beyond knowing who Elisabeth was, and ostensibly frequenting her family’s antique shop. He certainly wasn’t a person of interest, so you could only conclude that he was one of her wealthy patrons. “He must be rich”, you thought, watching him scribble something on a piece of paper and hand it to Petra.

Perhaps, in other circumstances, you could get to know each other better. It was crazy, you thought, to be imagining a future with a man you knew nothing about and had just met mere moments ago, but you couldn’t help it as you looked at the way he smiled at you. It was a sweet, warm smile, and you’d never met anyone else you felt a connection with so immediately. It was the same smile he gave you once more as he handed you an elegant box that Petra had given him. “What a handsome son of a bitch”, you thought, giving him a small smile.

— Here — Toto said, handing you the box — I know it's not a one-for-one replacement, but it's my way of apologizing for the accident earlier.

— It’s no problem, really. You could very well have ignored what happened and kept walking, so…

— No, I don’t think that would have been — he murmured, eyes fixed on yours. That intensity of his gaze on you made your own cheeks feel hot.

— What do you mean by that? — you asked, giggling nervously.

— It would be impossible to ignore you — Toto said, seeming to realize the effect of his own words on you — I could never just walk past you.

The room filled with silence that stretched out long enough for you to think of a million scenarios in which you would end up with your lips pressed against his.

— Well, I'm going to take this home — you finally said, taking a brief look at the box — Thank you for your kindness, Toto.

— It was the least I could do, Maria — he replied with a smile, putting a peculiar emphasis on your name.

Giving one last wave, you turned around and left the antique shop feeling like you were floating. However, nothing compared to the feeling that came over you when you opened the box and found a note on the bubble wrap that surrounded the delicate piece of porcelain.

— I'd love to see how it looks on your shelf — you read quietly, realizing that Toto had written his phone number below his message while Petra was wrapping the figurine.

You dug into your purse and pulled out your phone, but started feeling guilty again. You were in Vienna for work, not to flirt with strangers. You were dealing with dangerous people and getting involved with more people meant additional risk, not only for them, but for you and your career.

“Well… one photo of my bookshelf probably won’t hurt anyone”, you thought, before saving the number on your cell phone.

#toto wolff #wlffog #formula 1 fic #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 x reader #toto wolff x reader #f1 x reader #formula 1 x you #toto wolff fanfic #toto wolff fluff #formula one fanfic #formula one fic #ocwlff

[amicus-noctis]

“What is hell? I maintain that it is the suffering of being unable to love.” ― Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Brothers Karamazov

Painting: " Stańczyk" by Jan Matejko

#classical literature #classics #quotes #albert camus #franz kafka #poetry #classical quotes #sylvia plath #literature #booklr #fyodor dostoevsky #dostoevksy #the brothers karamazov #crime and punishment #leo tolstoy #tolstoy #lit #russian literature #classic literature #literary quotes #booklover #bookblr #books #books & libraries #book quotes #reading #dark academia #dark academia quotes #notes from underground #dead poets society

[nadia-cannot-think-straight]

I love looking at silly sketches of great artists. Like look at this fucking drawing of Jan Matejko with his wife. It's amazing how artists had always seen themeselves as just funny little guys.

#this is just how drawing your favorite characters/ocs feels like #and then drawing yourself #like man... #txt #art #polish art #sketches #gonna tag this as silly doodles as well cuz how else am i suppose to call it

[dumpsterfireofsubtext]

q, what’s your banner & your what’s it’s name, avatar from? 👀

Banner is a still from Wings of Desire!! (surprise surprise) And my icon is Wernyhora - Jan Matejko.

It’s one of my favourite paintings. I saw it in person in Kraków Gallery and fell in love immediately. It’s my avatar for almost everything now :)

#misiek asks #other

[unhonestlymirror]

If you ever get upset that your art is not historically accurate enough, just remember Jan Matejko, who drew Vytautas in the cap of Volodymyr Monomakh, metal силянка on a neck, and with a belt inspired by the design of a lampshade that stood in Matejko's apartment.

Also, I bet he drew the Teutons flag as if Vytautas holds it on purpose. Oh, come on, man, Jagailo killed Vytautas's family and tried to kill him, what else Vytautas could do.

#I can't stop laughing help #i love jan matejko #if Vytautas tried to appear before Teutons like this they would all die of laughing #bro what are those punk boots #also why is his hair drawn this way 😭 he looks fucking bald😭😭😭 #Jan matejko has a kink on bald Vytautas i see #Lithuania #Poland #pre Commonwealth #Grunwald battle #Polish art #Jan Matejko is like: historical inaccuracy? похуй головне шоб виглядало епічно #WTFFFF IS THIS OUTFIT🤣🤣🤣🤣

[mopillow]

https://at.tumblr.com/tcustodisart/pondering-the-borb-sta%C5%84czyk-by-jan-matejko-was/p19vifdgpn36

I'm not particular bout music or song..so i listen to anything that good,ur pick also got a nice vibe on it👌from childhood i listen to instrumental more often, so i'm okey with classic or just jams (my dad used to play guitar for me, i got dis really weird anxiety disorder so dad's play is a shooting agent. im all good now,but still have to put some kind of sound if needed)

The T is silent, love it, I can’t work if there’s no noise, my parents didn’t listened to music tho, it was news 24/7 so I use to do the same thankfully now there’s podcast, unless I’m in nature if I’m in a forest, a beach or anything of the likes I’m at peace I need nothing, if you like instrumental music I listen to buckethead, If is classical music I prefer anything with cello, native music is amazing too and lord I love the banjo, I’m chaotic even in my music taste

#crow anon

[calyxestra]

Hi! Your paintings are awesome! I Love the color palettes you usually choose! For artist ask game: 11 and 16 <3

Thank you!

Thanks so much!

11. Artist(s) that influenced/inspired your art style

Actual early formative influences: Albert Uderzo (Asterix), Hergé (The Adventures of Tintin), Will Eisner (The Spirit, but more his later graphic novels), and many of the artists who worked on Neil Gaiman's Sandman, just to name a few. (I also liked mangas like Naruto and Kindaichi, but I don't think they show up in my style.) So, brushy lines, simplification, caricature, expressive hands, moody lighting sometimes, eyes in shadow... 

...but I'm not sure this translates to my digital art.

When I started digital art it was mainly because of Witcher 3, so basically I learned by drawing from screenshots and figuring digital art out that way. (Early attempts.) So I guess the entire team of artists who worked on Witcher 3 are a big influence! I like to look around character artist portfolios on Artstation sometimes to get an idea of video game art styles. As for on Tumblr, to name just two, I have been inspired by the texture in the work of @wehavekookies and also the colors and shapes of @astrolunos (as in I admire it but can't do it, haha).

Finally, there are a lot of artists that i want to be influenced by: Jan Matejko, J. C. Leyendecker, John Singer Sargent, Ilya Repin, Norman Rockwell, etc., etc. Lots of portrait(-adjacent) painters/illustrators from the late 19th to mid-20th century, basically. I've done pastiches before (see my tag "calyxestra copies") and should probably do more.

16. Favorite piece of art from someone else (if you have one):

There are a lot of fantastic pieces of art, and I can't do justice to them all, but I'll just highlight this Vampyr art by @hehearse. I especially love the concept, as the family thread in Vampyr is one of my favorite parts of the story. The title is perfect. And the execution: the colors, the poses, the lines, the light—a sort of gentle luminescence permeating the foreground; the tenderness, the expression of the mother...

Thanks for participating in the ask game!

#ask game #about my art

[perdrixforelle]

Beetlejuice + pastiching famous art

Its sunday morning and I’m waiting for the bathroom to be free so I’ll just make a post about the famous paintings/drawings/illustrations I’d like to pastiche for fanart purposes. I’m a big art history nerd and these are very fun to make.

Stańczyk, by Jan Matejko, 1862

Any sad jester pic would fit Beetlejuice’s vibe I think. I imagine him right after the ending of the Musical, being all sad and lonely while the Deetz-Maitland family reunites in the right corner.

Lady with an Ermine, Leonardo Da Vinci, 1489–1491

I just picture movie Lydia in goth-renaissance garb holding the nasty Beetlejuice snake like a pet. It would look dope.

Two Satyrs, Peter Paul Rubens, 1618-1619

I dare you to look at that ravenous, mischievous expression, those fingers  gently squeezing the transluscent grapes, and tell me this does nothing for you. I mean, to each their own, of course, but it does something for me, and I’d love to emulate that expression in a Beetlejuice drawing.

Aaaaand I think that’s all for now. If you have suggestions in the same vein please feel free to share them, come be a nerd with me!!

#perdrix talks #beetlejuice #beetlejuice fanart #classical art #taking notes for later #chatting welcome #just be a nerd with me

[aquamotto]

Polish School of Magic or what Rowling gets wrong about Poland

In short: many things. 

The only mentions of polish wizards come from two instances - some Quidditch team  (Grodzisk Goblins) and Hagrid’s visit to Europe (with some goblin mention, again). 

Why goblins, anyway? There is no such creature in real polish mythology. Instead, there are much more Harry Potter-esque things such as: Beast of Krakow, Dragon of the Wawel Hill who is the most famous and ferocious creature in all Eastern Europe. The majestic power of this beast can only be matched with majestic power of its city of dwelling - Krakow, to put it simply, is the city of Polish kings.

Below: Krakow, the city of “goblins”, according to JKR:

But let me guess - goblin invokes this image of rudeness and primitivity that probably comes from british understanding of poles as construction workers and such. It is curious that nuanced portrayal of poor people that is reserved for characters like Snape is not allowed to poles. They are “goblins” but Snape is a “working class hero”.  

 What I will describe below, is my headcanon based on what I imagine Wizarding Poland to really be like, sans goblins and other imperialist fantasies but based on my own observation of Poland as both pole and outsider (because, unfortunately, I am both).

Personality,  culture

Quidditch champion image as rude and loud lads couldn’t be farther from the truth. Polish wizards, much like their friends in neighboring Czech Republic, are wise, eccentric, philosophical and brave people. They have been blessed and cursed with difficult history (Such as Partition of Poland and German and Soviet Invasion) and know very well how to operate in secrecy. In fact, they are the most secretive of all european wizards and if muggle were to accuse them of witchcraft, they would deny the fact to their last breath. In the same time, polish wizards love magic and often risk everything to pursue their next magical experiment. They are prone to be idealistic and live with their head in the clouds, sometimes literally, which can lead to both troubles and brilliant inventions.

Some believe that Nicolaus Copernicus, the genius astronomer who placed the Sun at the center of the Universe, was a polish wizard (painting by polish artist Jan Matejko):

This image of genius, sudden discoveries and epiphanies is valued in Poland to the point that students of Polish School of Magic wear stars indicating their year on their uniforms - to honor Copernicus. 

However, poles aren’t Ravenclaws in disguise - they are traditional, obedient and lawful people at the core and no polish wizard, even the smallest first year, would dare to cheek their headmaster or teacher the way Harry and co. do. 

Teacher - student relationship is sacred in Poland and it’s almost like your second parent -  someone to be treated with utmost respect. This can lead to quite harsh hierarchies in Wizarding Poland. 

Looks

Polish wizards dress modestly, colorful suits Weasley Twins style are not for them. They can sometimes even look monk-like (or medieval knight-like) in appearance. Since Poland is filled with minor aristocracy called szlachta (and I am proud to belong to it, too*) many polish wizards openly wear their coat of arms on their clothes. (*If you are wondering whether I have a coat of arms - yes, I do).

Polish School of Magic uses dark red monk-like hoods with more normal suit under as an unifroms.  Since they want to be the guardians of well respected traditions, it fits them. 

This doesn’t mean that poles are somber, though. They can be playful but in their distinct, “I challenge you” way. They can be competitive and fiery to the highest degree, especially when their honor or honor of their school is involved. They are indeed the most patriotic of all wizards, thinking of themselves as separated not only from muggles but from foreigners too.

Relationship with muggles

Polish wizards do not like muggles very much but unlike Britain, it rarely comes in a form of hostility but rather patronizing and light mockery. Rather than valuing pure blood,poles just think of themselves as superior to muggles in intelligence.They are especially suspicious of muggle disrespect of culture and the past which leads to wizards thinking that muggles are morally and spiritually, rather than genetically, impure. However, there was never an attempt to deny muggleborns education - in fact, they are welcomed with open arms and often even relief - “Finally, another one of us!”. This makes them a bit closer to Grindelwald’s idea of superiority than Voldemort’s one.

Music

Anyone knows Chopin, the great french-polish composer and indeed, poles adore music. To the point that Polish School of Magic considers participation in a school choir mandatory. But highest praise is reserved for those who dare and pick up an instrument (be it violin, cello, horn, piano or something else) to join the School Orchestra. If Triwizard Tournament accepted Poland, they would arrive in most curious way possible - operating the giant musical machine which would look like a church organ mixed with piano and other instruments. The headmaster would play it and the students (dressed in cloaks) would accompany him with some strange melody to make the grandest entrance ever. 

Polish School of Magic

Pictured below: Frombork

Thanks to Copernicus, magical astronomy and astrology are best subjects to learn in Polish School of Magic. Unlike their colleagues in Prague who are obsessed with alchemy, potions and dark arts, poles are more interested in the spiritual so they also value divination in any forms and defense against the dark arts. Since living in a country as difficult as Poland forces you to  always be on your toes, teachers consider it important to teach their students nonverbal magic as soon as possible. They also encourage wandless magic and actually had a lot of luck with it (unlike other european schools). Thanks to a certain WW2 incident, they also offer a superior course of arithmancy (If you know what I am hinting at, well done!) 

Pictured: Frombork Cathedral Bell Tower

Since poles are not very practical people, they don’t teach their students about Magical Creatures at all (aside from a side course on dangerous creatures such as dragons in DADA). This just doesn’t fit their heady aesthetics. Being honest and reliable people, they also dislike transfiguration - something about turning things into animals and other things strikes them as unnecessary cruel and even devilish. Being pious at the core, poles want magic to always come from the source of respect and light. That’s why almost all students leave the school with full patronuses - most common of which is a white eagle, of course - the symbol of Poland. Poles are often so patriotic that even their best memories are linked to their national identity!

Poles are also good at charms and make superb magical duellists. In fact, not many nations can best them in this regard, if any. It is thanks to their wandless magic, wordless spells,  quickness of reaction and harsh discipline (almost military-like) instilled in them in their school. 

Talking about discipline... Polish School of Magic’s discipline is indeed very strict. The school grounds are usually quiet, students know best not to laugh too loud, not to pull pranks or fool around needlessly. Spontanous duels are forbidden. Teachers love their work and always keep an eye on misbehaving individuals. Lazy, incompetent or misanthopic teachers don’t exist in Polish School of Magic. Instead they can be overly strict, demanding, mocking, conservative and overly eccentric. (This one is based on real life experience, everyone.)

Below: Ksiaz castle

 Teachers in Polish School of Magic lean old and getting a place there is very difficult and demands tons of connections. They also lean male but not just because of prejudice (although, unfortunately, such prejudice exists - Poland is a country of soldiers in many ways), because DADA course there is especially harsh and physically exhausting. (Some say it’s because they want to best Durmstrang and it comes with knowing your enemy).

Despite the notes of traditionalist gender roles, female teachers are usually well-respected, even more than male ones. And that’s why many female teachers are quite haughty and have queen-like demeanor.

Below: Ksiaz castle room

But when do poles rest from all their strict training? The answer: when holidays come. Holidays are sacred for poles and many missteps are forgiven during them, rules become slightly more relaxed. 

One of the curiously LESS regulated things in Polish School of Magic is love. While british and american wizards such as Snape may get into a puritanical rage seeing two students kissing passionately, polish teachers would just smile sweetly at them and leave them alone. Girls sending boys postcards is not considered cringeworthy as it is in Hogwarts (I am looking at you, Harry) but natural and enviable. In fact, teachers encourage students to dance together and on holidays such as Christmas, they even overlook duels related to love triangles (a rare case of them approving non-DADA duels). Poles can dance well and you can often find them waltzing in the school balroom in their festive robes. They also flirt well and all this combined with the fact how good they are at duelling, makes them formidable rivals in love for students from any other school, including Beauxbatons, especially considering that Beauxbatons boys lean narcissistic rather than chivalrous.

In the end, if Poland did participate in Triwizard Tournament, I think it would charm everyone with their quick wit, intelligence, modesty, good manners and passionate spirit. 

Quite far from the “Goblin” stuff, isn’t it?

Below: various beautiful views from Poland

#hp #harry potter #harry potter analysis #poland #polska #aquamotto #polish school of magic #hp facts #hp lore #headcanon #headcanons #krakow #gdansk #poznan #torun #warsaw #minific #hp theory #theories #jkr criticism #europe

[paintalyx]

CATALOGUE OF NAMELESS PEOPLE: JESTER [DRABBLE]

»»—|★|—««

Oh, to be a naïve fool in love once more! With only the whole world and a lock of blonde hair looming before me, as some distant idea of a future.

Years pass and I still hopelessly cling to the title of a jester, a vague figure I recognised in my reflection one morning and claimed readily. Jokes and half-truths slip between my lips and I relish in how the sound of laughter keeps ringing in my ears long after I've stopped talking. So long as people, peasantry and noblemen alike, find my buffoonery amusing enough to stay, I see no reason to stop putting on a show for them.

For them, I'll listen to tales of townsfolk, eavesdrop on murmurs of the street and read all those unsigned letters that desperate hurl into the abyss, thinking of ways to use their words later.

For them, I'll practice in front of a mirror until my face stops hurting if I smile for too long.

For them, I'll dance and twirl even when my bruise-riddled limbs begin to ache and bile starts climbing up my throat.

All of this and more, everything I do is for them in one way or another. For their smiles, their approval, their idle enjoyment and my sick, shameful pleasure.

I am not myself, I am only what other people perceive me as.

I am my cap and bells, my formless body and my ugly snickers.

I am the joke and the one who tells it.

I am Jester.

Hopeless, unlovable, the first to shed a tear and the last to laugh.

As I search for signs of a better future within swirling depths of the abyss, over and over anew, I begin to think that a jester is all I ever ought to be. There is nothing left for this old fool to do. Nothing to hope for. Nothing to look forward to or love. The world has closed its doors before me years ago. My darling's honey-blond hair has disappeared from sight long before that. This self-given title and pitiful show are all I have left.

At the end of the day, when bells stop jingling and my audience stops laughing, I am no one. I am alone.

»»—|★|—««

A/N: A random drabble reposted from my wattpad, loosely inspired by "Stańczyk" by Polish painter Jan Matejko, a couple of passages of "No Longer Human" by Osamu Dazai, as well as my personal interpretation and understanding of The Fool in its reversed position. Also the first piece of writing I'm sharing here (Look mom I'm trying something new). English is not my 1st language so it's probably not the best thing ever, but I hope you enjoyed reading it ^^

#my stuff #mepx writes #writeblr #drabble #short story #instrospection #my writing #criticism more than welcome #might post more at some point later but i'm not promising anything lmao #very different from what i usually do here but shhh i'm experimenting so have mercy on me

[oatmilkismylife]

@jesterofwords

Hey hey thanks for requesting!! I hope you like this!! <3

💥 Thunderstorm

Quirk Type: Emitter

You can create full size or mini thunderstorms from your hands! You can also pick and choose certain elements and do just a “thunderclap” or “lightning strike” The thunderstorms you create can be highly centralized and anchored onto a particular object or person! Being in an actual thunderstorm amplifies your quirk and basically powers you up!

🍄Memes!

omg thank you for this I love giving people these bc they make me laugh sm

🎨Art Piece

omg yay an art request!! Okay your username “jester” made me think of this piece

Stańczyk by Jan Matejko

What it’s all about:

So Stańczyk was the most famous Polish court jester in history (c. 1480–1560)

The jester is depicted as the only person at a royal ball who is troubled by the news that the Muscovites have captured Smolensk. This event happened in 1514.

Also according to the legends, he was a sharp and witty man who used his satire to comment on the political upheavals of the monarchy!

I found this really interesting article when I was looking up the name of this piece so definitely check it out if you’re interested!

https://medium.com/the-collector/interpreting-the-sad-clown-stańczyk-ffaff072e3d6

🔮Peach Aventurine

Okay when I was thinking of a crystal for you, I was drawn to peach aventurine! Then I looked it up and it says,

Peach Aventurine is a stone often recommended to help with anxiety, worry, stress and shyness. It can boost the energy of the sacral chakra and calm and balance the emotions.

I think this is perfect for you because you mentioned being more introverted so I think this crystal would be helpful to you!!

#mha quirk #emitter quirk #mha #bnha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #peach aventurine #bnha meme #bnha cursed meme #mha meme #bnha low quality image #quirk #jade's 70 followers event