🟨 Your Embrace 🟨
cone 5.5 stoneware wall tiles, underglaze, underglaze pencil, glaze
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id: Three ceramic wall tiles with a yellow background and black and white illustrations and floral accents featuring pairs of various werewolves embracing, at peace with closed eyes.
The first tile: a fat figure with top surgery and phalloplasty scars touching noses with a trans masc figure with breasts, arms wrapped around each other.
Second tile: A trans femme figure with its head resting over another figure with breasts, holding hands, arms around each other, legs intertwined.
Third tile: A sitting figure with top surgery scars resting its head on the shoulder of the companion sitting behind it. The companion’s arms reach around it in a hug.
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I 'Miti' sopravvivono ai tempi, Marilyn in mostra a Stupinigi (To)
I ‘Miti’ sopravvivono ai tempi
Quando pensiamo agli anni Cinquanta, ci si affaccia alla mente un mondo completamente diverso da quello attuale: la guerra, con i suoi orrori, era finita da poco, il mondo era diviso da confini politici diversi, e come succede dopo un periodo difficile si faceva avanti tutto un mondo di cose nuove e la parola ‘modernità’ era molto in voga. ‘I Miti’ di allora sono…
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Nacho Business (a Next Door Boy tale)
When Brent and I took that photo together, we hadn’t switch bodies just yet. In Sierra Vista, there were not many opportunities to be hired in well-paying jobs, especially as a Latino American. So when Brent offered me a job and didn’t hesitate to stand beside me as equal human beings, I accepted with a smile on my face.
Brent was the manager of the gas station and had worked his way to the top since he was teen. He was a good leader and spent many hours at work and many more at the gym. He knew he looked good, but it was part of his image.
I was hired to many stay in the backrooms. In this conservative part of town, I as a brown-skinned resident had to avoid intimidating the sensitive customers. But my work ethic and leadership skills didn’t go unnoticed by management. Brent gave me more responsibilities and eventually I was assistant manager. We handled the store well. Of course, matters of race always deferred to him. If a customer couldn’t converse with me without dipping into casual racism, Brent stood up to the plate and shouldered the responsibility. Not only was his race a help, but also his charisma and built body. He could smooth talk any woman down.
Eventually it came to light that Brent was skimming money off the top of business. Higher ups came down harder than a heatwave in the desert. They gave him an ultimatum: resign or face a lawsuit.
Brent tried his hardest to fight back. He claimed he was the face of the store. No one would shop there when a Mexican was in charge. And I realized his kindness was a mask. He saw me nothing more than my race.
But the owners of a multi-billion dollar franchise wouldn’t passively let a racist prick steamroll them with threats. They offered me the position of being the face of the store, and when I accepted, they forced the agency Next Door Boy to do a permanent swap of me and Brent.
I didn’t think they meant I would be the literal face of the store. I wore Brent for over a year now. I take more time off after becoming him. I love heading to the gym and bench pressing a fuck ton of weight. I get compliments from guys all the time. I never liked Brent’s douche bag tats, but it helps with picking up the ladies. With my managerial skills, I managed to get the store into top shape. I donate money to various charities around town. It’s my aim to reduce the racial troubles around here, and while I get to reap the benefits of the white lifestyle, I still try my beset to help Brent in my body.
It’s really despicable what they did to Brent. They practically wiped his mind clear. He lost most of his mathematical talent, literacy, and confidence. He acts the part of the uneducated, timid Hispanic worker. I try my best to help him. We go out for drinks and hang out playing pool. He gets crap occasionally for being Latino, but I manage to protect him. He practically worships me since he only vaguely knows he used to be me. He had begged me for his body back, but it’s out of my hands. I catch him checking me out when I change into my employee uniform, but I don’t think he’s gay. He must be dreaming of these biceps or the six pack abs he worked so hard on. A few times he tried to lecture me on how to run the store. I told him it wasn’t his business. A few of the other employees jokingly tell him “nacho business.” They don’t mean it maliciously, and I find myself saying it too. I feel maybe I’ve lost myself in this white hunk. Maybe I will ask the company to give Brent his intelligence back. That way I don’t feel so guilty.
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[Image description: A digital drawing of Amanda Young from the Saw franchise. She's wearing her outfit from the third film, but has her hair from the first. She's wearing the reverse bear trap, which leaves only the top half of her face visible. Her eyes are open wide and staring directly at the viewer. Eyeliner runs down her cheeks. In one hand she holds overflowing needles which are falling from her loose grasp. In the other she has a tape recorder. Her arms are stiff, as if she's a posed mannequin. Bandages are wrapped around both of her wrists. These bandages, the tape recorder, the needles and the reverse bear trap are all coloured a bold light blue. Amanda is coloured bright white with grey shading, while the background is a darker grey. It also has a subtle spiral pattern to it.]
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