the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.
three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.
two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.
their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.
one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.
i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.
i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.
and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?
you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.
a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.
someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.
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does anyone else form their headcanons of marinette and adrien largely on the basis of "they have to be opposite each other"? like, creation and destruction, yin and yang, etc. like Marinette being late all the time and sleeping through her alarms? so she's probably a deep sleeper? So that means, by the laws of my lovesquare headcanons according to my brain, Adrien has to be a light sleeper. Marinette is a chaotic creative person and I can imagine her just having so much STUFF all around and living in organized chaos. so therefore Adrien likes his spaces neat and clear. (also something something creation and clutter vs destruction and emptiness) you know??? ???? ? adrien and marinette headcanons just cant be independent of each other in my brain. they are always intrinsically linked
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listen, i have no idea what’s currently canon in dc comics and i really don’t care to BUT regardless of what continuity we’re in, i think jason todd might be the funniest character of all time. just the biggest hypocrite ever and i’m obsessed. like, so many people have pointed out how crazy it is to be pissed off at tim for replacing him as robin when he literally replaced dick while dick was still alive, but then to go and parade around bludhaven as a murderous nightwing while dick is (again) very much still alive and THEN form a team with dick’s ex girlfriend and best friend??? jason todd is THE definition of “replacement” or what the fuck ever he calls tim and i actually find it so funny. stay crazy girl <3
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DpxDc AU: Not all omni-lingualism works the same- Nightwing learns this the most awkward way possible.
Dick has gotten to know Phantom, who is constantly hanging around his brothers on various missions and the guy seems like a genuine delight. He’s very easy going, serious when needed and way over powered when it comes to dealing with mission crises. Duplication, ice, invisibility, time dilation (though Phantom insists it has to do with a god’s blessing for running favors and not his own power) like so much, and shit, Nightwing has even seen him easily switch between languages when talking to different heroes. Phantom never explains how any of his powers work, they’re just glad that his powers always do.
On one particular mission Nightwing asks if Danny can switch to a Romani so that they can shit talk without alerting the other team members. (He’s seen him switch to Arabic for Damian so like, why not?)
Danny explains that well, he probably can but normally it takes time and uh, circumstances for him to be fluent enough for conversation. (The circumstances Danny is referring to are that of life or death pt. 2 since that’s when he has the best control over this power.)
Now…Nightwing’s first and only experience with biology related polyglots was Starfire kissing him upon landing on Earth in Jump City. So Nightwing says, ok bet. What’s a little peck between bros?
Being kissed by Nightwing is not what Danny expected, but given the anxiety suddenly raising his blood pressure like a life or death situation would, it does in fact lead to him being able to speak Romani.
This is also the story about Dick learning that he just kissed his little brother’s new boyfriend.
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