#she looks so pre raphaelite here

[misandriste]

↳ endless gifs of morgana ∞

KATIE McGRATH as MORGANA 𝕸𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖓 ⧽ 𝟏.𝟏𝟐 "𝔗𝔬 𝔎𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤"

#she looks so pre raphaelite here #endless morganas #morgana #morgana pendragon #morgana le fay #katie mcgrath #bbc merlin #merlin bbc #merlin #merlinedit #merlingif #tv #tvedit #tvgif #tvgifs #perioddramaedit #dailytvfilmgifs #gifsbymisa #femalecharacters #tvfilmsource #dailytvwomen #femalegifsource #tvandfilm #televisiongifs #filmtvdaily

[its-rach-writes]

Cinnamon and Art Galleries - Spencer Reid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: Your friend, Emily brings a cute stranger to your art exhibition.

Warnings: fluff, fluff, more fluff, probably ooc Spencer

A/N: I hope you guys enjoy this! This was my first time writing for Spencer so he's probably out of character but please let me know what you think! I love you all! xxx

You smiled as you drew the cat in the hot chocolate foam and handed it to the little girl on the other side of the counter with her mom. It melted your heart when her face lit up and she waved at you as her mom steered her out of the café. It was slow in your café today but you didn’t mind, you used the time to set up for the beginner art class you were going to be teaching on Saturday.

“Hey girl,” you glanced up when the bell rang and your friend Emily walked in.

You smiled when you saw her and gave her a wave. She was the first friend you had made when you moved to DC.

“Hey,” you smiled, “having the usual?”

“Please,” she grinned.

You got to work, making her one black coffee, the other was a milky coffee with a shot of cinnamon syrup. You knew that Emily drank the black coffee so you couldn’t help but wonder who the overly sweet coffee was for. You carefully selected the cinnamon roll with the most frosting and slid it into a bag, being careful to not let it stick to the paper bag.

“I believe congratulations are in order,” Emily started and you scoffed with a laugh.

As soon as you found out your art was going to be featured in an exhibition, Emily was the first person you told, “the team are coming to see it.”

You raised an eyebrow, secretly you were grateful, “FBI Agents don’t have anything better to do?”

She laughed, “not tonight, I even managed to talk the good Dr into coming.”

“The elusive Spencer Reid?” you rested your hip against the counter as you handed her the coffees, “how did you manage that?” from what Emily had told you, it didn’t seem like Spencer Reid liked social situations.

“I’ve got killer interrogation skills,” she smirked, “he’s cute too.”

You internally groaned, yours and Emily’s definition of ‘cute’ were very different, for all you knew Spencer Reid was an aging Professor, “as long as you don’t try and set us up, like you tried with me and Morgan.”

“No promises,” she laughed as she backed out of the café, “I’ll see you tonight.”

Later that night, you were sipping champagne as people perused your exhibition, your paintings were both inspired by Pre-Raphaelite art and the King Arthur legends. You noticed a man was standing at your painting of the Knights of the Round Table, so you walked over and decided to strike up a conversation.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” his lips twitched into a small smile as he looked down at you with gorgeous deep brown eyes, “you’re the artist right?” when you nodded, he looked back at the painting, “you’re really good.”

“Thanks, I love Pre-Raphaelite art.”

“Did you know that the Pre-Raphaelites were a secret society of young artists, founded in London in 1848? They were opposed to the Royal Academy’s promotion of the ideal as exemplified in the work of Raphael,” he blurted this out like he’d memorised it from a textbook and you worked hard to conceal a laugh.

“I did know that,” you giggled.

“Right of course,” he flushed, “of course you knew that.”

Something struck a memory, something that Emily had told you, “wait, are you Spencer Reid?” he looked at you with slightly wary eyes before nodding and you smiled, “I’m Y/N, Emily has told me so much about you.”

“It’s all lies,” he joked and glanced over his shoulder, “she’s making the most of the bar right now.”

You laughed as you looked over too and she waved, lifting up a glass in a motion of cheers. When she had said Spencer was cute, it was an understatement, he was young and gorgeous.

“Are you interested in art?” you asked as you sipped your champagne.

Spencer nodded, “I like looking at it, I’m afraid I’m not very artistic.”

“And here, we thought you were perfect,” you heard a chuckle from over your shoulder and you turned to see Derek Morgan and the rest of the BAU, Morgan pulled you into a hug, “congratulations sweetheart.”

“Thanks,” you smiled as you pulled away and looked at the others, “thank you for coming.”

It was a great night and you were grateful for everyone that came but soon, you were starting to get overwhelmed so you went out onto the balcony for a cigarette. Though it seemed as though someone else had beaten you to it. He ran a hand through his hair and glanced over his shoulder and smiled at you.

“Hey, you want some company?”

“Sure,” he smiled.

There was comfortable silence for a while as both of you looked over at the lights of DC, your cigarette smoke curling in the air. Soon enough, Spencer spoke up.

“So what do you do? Is art your full time thing?”

“I own the café by the library, but I’m integrating art into the café, I’m teaching a beginner class at the weekend from there.”

“No way! Seriously?” he smiled, looking animated, “your coffee is so good and your cinnamon rolls? Amazing.”

You laughed, “Emily gets the cinnamon roll with the most frosting for you?”

“Yeah,” he flushed, he opened his mouth to say something else when he was interrupted by Aaron Hotchner.

“Reid, we just got called in,” he glanced at you, an apologetic look, “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“No, it’s okay,” you smiled when Spencer pushed himself off the railing, “it was really nice to meet you Spencer.”

He flushed and offered you a shy smile, “it was nice to meet you too, I’ll see you soon?”

You nodded and Emily pulled you into a tight hug, whispering in your ear, “I’ll make sure he sees you soon,” you laughed, shaking your head as she pulled away.

On Saturday, you were setting up for the art class when you heard the tinkle of the bell and you glanced up. None other than Spencer Reid was standing in the open doorway, the sun like a halo around his head.

“Thought you might need a hand.”

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #dr reid #reid #spencer #criminal minds #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n

[cleolinda]

A tale retold

I first told this story some twenty years ago, and it happened even earlier than that, so here's the Modern Retelling with Historical Context:

For many years, I had—well, you've heard of naturally curly hair? I had unnaturally curly hair. I had a stylist so brilliant that she was able to give me occasional perms that no one could tell were chemical. NO, FOR REAL, I constantly got compliments on my long, rippling hair. In reality, my hair is deplorably fine and flat, although I'm told I have a ton of it; putting in some wave made me feel better, you know? I just wanted to co-wash, air-dry, and go live my tousled life. But after my spinal surgery, I just couldn't spend 2-3 hours in a stylist's chair anymore. And so, after 20 years of my best Galadriel impression, I've had to make peace with my natural texture, the only thing about me (I realize now) that is actually straight.

But this story takes place back in 1996; I was a junior in high school, and I had the freshest of perms. Just absolutely exuberant. Downright Pre-Raphaelite. It had only been done the weekend before, and it usually took about two weeks for the curls to settle down and look less poodly natural, but I wasn't going to miss Baz Luhrmann's Romeo + Juliet. When I was in grad school years later, my Shakespeare professor went to the mat for this movie, declaring it the best adaptation of any of his plays. And she wasn't a Leo fangirl, either. I tend to agree. And I got to see it on a big screen, opening night, with my best friend and my fresh luscious elbow-length '90s 'do. Banger soundtrack, the big bold visuals that tip over into Maybe Too Much in Moulin Rouge—I'm enthralled, I'm absorbed. Claire Danes is weeping over Dead Romeo, and we all know what’s about to happen in this, a 400-year-old play, but you still hope against hope that somehow it won’t this time. And then I feel something that's not emotion.

Something behind me. In my hair.

It's clammy. This tiny moist hand... creeping... up my neck.

Bear in mind, these are classic movie theater seats, not the big recliners you get now. My head is vulnerable to rear attack. And these tiny fingers, like a gummy little doll's hand, are crawling up my neck, under, through my hair. I am now sitting bolt upright, frozen. What the fuck is going on. It’s still creeping like a little spider up my scalp to the back of my head—put your hand up to yours, get your fingertips to the roots of your hair and really get a sense of what this feels like—

These fingers close, slowly, around the greediest handful of hair they can get hold of, and YANK.

I whip around while Juliet is sobbing—darkness.

To this day, I have no idea who (or what?) that tiny hand belonged to. I mean, you gotta think it was a small child enticed by the siren song of my curls, right? Some parents just didn’t spring for a babysitter on a big opening night, and there’s a Millennial out there with some real interesting core memories, I guess? I couldn't make out anything in the darkness behind me, and we were at kind of a key cinematic moment, so I didn't have time for more than a stern warning glare To Whom It Might Concern. And then I held onto my hair for the remainder of the movie. I chopped it all off within a few months, and went to college with short, straight hair, unable to forget the Cursèd Touch of the Hand. lol jk I just wanted a change and regretted it instantly.

So, happy 20th anniversary to the story I told on the Fametracker forums all those years ago. I can still remember exactly what that hand felt like: tiny. And moist.

#story time with cleo #me for some reason #long post #tiny moist hand #livejournal

[operafantomet]

Some Christines donning three fairly different wigs

KIMILEE BRYANT: For her Basel run (left) she wore a big, bushy early European style. When joining the early US tour (middle) those wig also had elements of bushy, but they were more fitted around the head. This is similar to what she also wore in Toronto (not depicted). For her final Broadway run (right) she wore the more ringley-y style.

SIERRA BOGGESS: For her original Las Vegas run (left) she wore a wig with lots of volume over the temples, and ringley-y curls. For her later Broadway runs (not depicted) the wigs also had ringlets, but they were lower over the forehead. For one specific photoshoot she was also fitted with a wig with no forehead curls (middle). For the RAH celebrations (right) she wore a fairly classic UK look, but with looser and bigger curls - which sadly deflated during the performance, so here's one from the beginning of the show... She also wore a curlier UK wig for the Classic Brit Award (not depicted), and a similar wig with bigger and softer curls for the alas cancelled Paris run (also not depicted).

CLAIRE LYON: For her initial World Tour run (left) she wore the large-curled dark wig with defined drapes over the forehead/sides. For her second World Tour run (middle) she was fitted with a more UK styled wig with lighter drapes and small forehead curls, but with large and soft curls in the locks. A similar, albeit shorter and less curly look, was worn for her surprise emergency cover in the Restaged Aussie Tour (right).

HARRIET JONES: Oh the lady of many wigs! For her initial West End run (not depicted) she wore a pre-raphaelite like wig with long auburn locks with loose curls. Later during her West End run (left) she wore a similar wig with slightly more brown teint and tighter curls. When she joined the Greek-soon-to-be-Middle-East-tour production (middle) her wig was styled similar to her original West End wig, but blonde and without forehead curls. For her current run (right) she wears a shorter blonde wig with side-parted hair and tight curls.

GEORGIA WILKINSON: When she was in the Sydney Harbour production she both understudied Christine and stunted as the double. She wore what I think was the same dark brown wig, but sometimes seen with fairly loose big curls (left) and sometimes with tighter curls (not depicted). I assume this was due to humidity. When she joined the Greek/Middle East tour (middle) she first donned a long, sleek blonde wig similar to that of Harriet Jones, but platina blonde. Later on she too was fitted with a shorter, curlier wig with side-parted styling over the forehead (right).

BRIDGET COSTELLO: Her brown West End wig (left) was usually tightly curled and with defined curls over the forehead. A similar style was worn for the Restaged Aussie Tour (middle) but with less forehead curls and looser, bigger locks. For the Middle East Tour she wears a a shorter blonde side-parted with with tight curls, in the vein of Harriet Jones and Georgia Wilkinson.

HANNA-LIINA VõSA: She is the only Christine on the list who's never done the replica version yet she's managed to don three different wigs! For her initial Estonian run (left) she wore a short, blonde wig with side-parted hair and tight curls. For her first Finnish run (middle) she wore a reddish blonde wig with middle-parted hair and loose curls. For her second Finnish run (right) her wig was brighter red, with side-parted hair and more defined curls.

AMY MANFORD: For her West End run (left) her wig was brown, with defined forehead curls and tightly curled locks. Her Restaged Aussie Tour wig (middle) was also brown, but sleeker in look and without forehead curls. For her Greek run (right) she donned a blonde wig, but in styling not too unlike her West End wig.

(note: this is not a complete list, just those I had good photos of)

#christine wig #christine daae #phantom of the opera #costume nerding #kimilee bryant #sierra boggess #claire lyon #harriet jones #georgia wilkinson #bridget costello #hanna liina vosa #amy manford

[sgiandubh]

Hello good afternoon! On Sam's part, we already have some speculation there in Mordor (will we have a Barbie Fitness revival?). But what about IFTA? Will we have a two-pronged attack this weekend?

Dear IFTA Anon,

The IFTA event is in Dublin, on April 20th. Next week, not this week-end.

For the moment, we have Landcon in Paris on Saturday and yup, he registered for the Cologne Hyrox on Sunday:

And so is Mrs. Xena, what a surprise:

Of course she geotagged herself, aaah-ing and oooh-ing near the Dome. Ha. Ha.

After all, she told Herr Lederhosen, her Bavarian fan Numero Uno, she was going to race PRO at Hyrox Cologne, hashtag lonewolf, hashtag Club Flamingo (but afterwards, LOL) - more about this, here: https://www.tumblr.com/sgiandubh/744955031835541504/out-of-the-ol-bubble?source=share

If you care to see the event's agenda, you'll notice Hyrox PRO women is very short (I have no clue why, ask me about Pre-Raphaelites, instead) and almost simultaneous with the beginning of the Men's race, where S competes. Cue in salacious comments from *urv, I think we should expect at least that.

On the flip side, a revival would be very farfetched, taking into account that Daily Fail article which portrayed him as a Raya lookin' for a hookin', elite available man (LOL for years). PR might be a bitch, but never does something like that without a reason.

Fingahs crossed for that Flamingo Club. Oh, and pour la bonne bouche, she even told us where she is staying in Cologne:

A 'full appartment with kitchen' and thank you Primal (paid partnership, of course) for today and the ESN hotel, starting tomorrow. Here is an interesting clue, just in case anyone pre-empts the fanfic and imagines a kama-sutra side event in one of the numerous hôtels de charme of Cologne.

There is no ESN hotel (yes, I looked, Deutschland and her beauty are not my forte) in town. The ESN she is talking about is Elite Sports Nutrition, a German fitness supplements company (https://int.esn.com/) prominently featured at FIBO 2024 (same dates, roughly, same place):

They pay for the room and she doesn't even know or care where the hotel is.

So long for the fish, Anon. That settles it for me. Also, for having participated several times at different high-level events organized by the German authorities (think EU ministerial summit level), I can tell you these people do not joke about accommodation, transfers and registration formalities: this is very strict and very, very effective. Best organization in the world and I know something about it.

*fondly and suddenly remembers her miraculous long week-end at the Adlon Hotel, in Berlin, circa 2007 *

[Later edit]: Told you. *urv already wrote Chapter 13 of Fitness at Dawn. It's based in Cologne:

*bangs head against wall*

#anon #fandom #shitshow

[neathyingenue]

Drew this a while ago but just now getting to post it!! Here's a sketch of Silvia's Parabola reflection. I'm calling her "the Daffodil Maiden." For an overexplanation of the Yucatec Maya, Welsh, Spanish, English, and Catholic visual references-- look below the cut :)

Also I *am* working on the OC gouache portraits (got one done and two sketched out) but my hip is injured or something?? making sitting down painful so I can't paint :/ As soon as I can, I will get to work on those again!

The majority of the reflection's garment is based on the huipil of the Yucatec Maya, specifically the versions worn in the jarada, the national folk dance of Belize. Silvia's is embroidered with daffodils, the national flower of Wales. The flared hem is ruffled and gathered, trimmed with ribbon, a nod to European textiles/sewing techniques and Spanish folk-dance costumes. The ribbon sash thing is also part of the jarada costume--here I want it to constrict Silvia a bit.

The long unstyled hair is taken from the pre-Raphaelite painters, who depicted idealized versions of Victorian youthful femininity. Specifically I'm thinking of Waterhouse's 'Lady of Shalott,' because that poem is about a mirror and a forbidden glimpse of a desired reality. It's too perfect for Parabola! The halo, though, moves us into the more austere Catholic ideal of the virgin saint, most notably Mary the mother of Jesus.

I specifically took inspiration from the Virgin of Guadalupe, the patron saint of Mexico and the Americas, who legend states appeared to an Indigenous peasant, St. Juan Pablo. There is a lot of debate among Latin Americans about how the story of the Virgin of Guadalupe should be interpreted. Is her apparition the Church's attempt to redirect and control Indigenous goddess-worship? Or does it represent an important step toward inclusion in Christianity for Mary to appear to an oppressed non-white person? Does she represent colonial control, or the resistance to it? Although Silvia was never Catholic, Catholicism is one of the most recognizable impacts of Spain's colonialism in the Americas, so I wanted to visually depict that tension in this design.

The daffodil rod references iconography of St. Joseph, Mary's husband. Legend states that his walking-stick flowered with lilies to show everyone that he would be Mary's husband and Jesus's legal father. Joseph is the patron saint of fathers, immigrants, exiles, and workers, so that's also relevant to Silvia's backstory.

With this design, I'm trying to convey Silvia's complicated relationship to her cultural identities, as well as her deep desire to be seen as morally pure and good. I think she would be uncomfortable with how European and maidenly her reflection is--because it would force her to confront the fact that her moral code, no matter how radical, still smacks of European philosophy and Catholic ideals of "purity."

#silvia salcedo #my art #postcolonial fl #i spent way too long on this lol #eventually i wanna paint this design but that's for future mj #parabola

[artist-ellen]

Lucy in Narnia

For Lucy's 'In Narnia' outfit I chose a light purple and gold gown of fantastical origins. She has retained her hair-bows and gained a knife. (And the life saving potion but that's implied).

So pre-raphaelite art and why they were the inspiration for the 2000s Narnia movies. The Pre-Raphaelites were a group of English painters, poets, and art critics, in the later half of the 1800s that eschewed the stylistic approaches to art (Mannerist - Late Renaissance Art) inspired by classic painters, especially Raphael. They focused their art style on the return of vibrant color, intricate detail, and complex compositions. Their themes on nature, history painting (as defined by painting a scene from a narrative instead of static portraiture), Christianity (they are English painters founded in 1848 we're not surprised and Narnia is very Christian these things being connected and represented in the Narnia'Verse is not surprising), with a fascination of original thought, medieval and literary heroes. (Works include examples like 'Ophelia', 'Medea', 'The Death of King Arthur', 'Fair Rosamund', etc.)

So why Pre-Rahpaelite as an inspiration? The costume designer notes specifically the turn-of-the century style/paintings as 'The Magician's Nephew' takes place in the Edwardian Era. They have a lot of Romantics/Nature themes, Christian themes, a vague fantasy-medieval style that exemplifies modern imaginings of medieval times. So I looked at a bunch of paintings, made some notes about the way they took liberties with medieval fashion, and added some fantasy elements of my own to continue the tradition of 'it's not quite here nor there, but evokes the right feeling. (wow this is the longest + most technical rant in a While. It's... good to be back?)

I am the artist!!! Don’t repost without permission & credit! Thank you! Come visit me over on: Instagram , Patreon

#lucy pevensie #lnart #the chronicles of narnia #narnia #the pevensies #redesigning heroines #historical costuming #historical fashion #redesigning book characters #the lion the witch and the wardrobe #tltwatw #character design #classic books #book art #digital illustraion #art blog #queen lucy the valiant #kings and queens of narnia

[pagansphinx]

The Museum of Fine Arts, Boston: The current exhibition, which I attended today, is Fashioned by Sargent – a collection of gorgeous Sargent portraits and displays of attire worn by the subjects of those portraits, while also illuminating the ways in which fashion played a key role in his artistic process. Follow the link for the complete introductory exhibition text and a nice little video presentation.

It was, at times, difficult to take photos because the exhibition was quite crowded. The work below, in particular, was swamped with viewers. The first two images below are from the internet, the third is mine.

-P.S.

John Singer Sargent (1856-1925) • Ellen Terry as Lady MacBeth •

The museum label:

Ellen Terry was one of Britain's greatest actors, renowned for her roles in both comedy and tragedy. In 1878 she became the leading lady in Henry Irving's company at London's Lyceum Theater where she played numerous Shakespearian roles. When Macbeth opened on December 27, 1888, Sargent was in the audience. He wrote to Isabella Stewart Gardner that Terry "looks magnificent in it, but she hasOn December 27, 1888, Sargent was in the audience. He wrote to Isabella Stewart Gardner that Terry "looks magnificent in it, but she has not yet made up her mind to let me paint her in one of the dresses until she is quite convinced that she is a success. From a pictorial point of view there can be no doubt about it - magenta hair!" After sketching various compositions, he painted Terry in a dynamic pose that did not occur in the play. Pre-Raphaelite painter Edward Burne-Jones saw it in progress and made suggestions about the color, which may account for the difference between the blues of the painting and the greens of the actual dress. "Sargent's picture is almost finished and it is splendid," declared Terry, "the picture is the sensation of the year!"

Alice Laura Vansittart Comyns Carr (1850 - 1927) • Beetle Wing Dress for Lady Macbeth • Cotton, silk, lace, beetle-wing cases, glass, metal

At the MFA this dress was in a case, reflections on the glass, bad lighting, and tons of people, which made for disastrous photos. Hence the internet sourced image you see here.

Though technically not a good picture, I thought the visitor looking at the painting was a good match with it. The portrait is impressively large – 221.0 cm × 114.5 cm (87.0 in × 45.1 in), so the person looking at it also serves the purpose of providing perspective. – P.S.

#art #painting #fine art #art history #museums #art exhibition #portrait #john singer sargent #19th century art #women in paintings #museum of fine arts boston #shakespeare #macbeth #ellen terry #american expats #artist #portraitist #theatre #stage actor #my photos

[glitterslag]

"Cool necklace." Says Robin, gesturing to the glint of gold-wrapped red that rests in the hollow of Chrissy's throat.

Chrissy's spread out languidly across the Harrington's leather sofa, looking like she should be centrefold in the latest Playboy. She's still in her pink bikini top from before, one of Steve's big dad shirts flung on over the top and a pair of barely-there jean shorts to cover the rest. Her hair is pool-damp, skin golden, and there's a sweaty can of Natty Light in her hand, which hangs wanly on the floor below. She's Pre-Raphaelite.

Robin sits on the carpet beneath her, looking up at her with the shy admiration characteristic of someone in Chrissy's company for the first time.

Chrissy turns her benevolent gaze onto Robin, smiles down at her all warm and lazy like sunlight trickling in through the gaps in the Venetian blind. Eddie knows full well what it's like to be caught in the glare.

"Thanks." she smiles, catching his eye across the room for a brief flicker.

Eddie's been fused to the La-Z-Boy for the past hour, melting further and further into the leather in a drunken haze.

He's currently rendered mute - he gets that way, when he's drunk. Quiet. Probably the only time he ever is. And so he lets Chrissy field Robin's next question:

"What's the meaning behind it?"

His heart quickens as he watches her toy with the dice at her neck. The d20 Eddie had given her usually sits unseen beneath the collar of her shirt, and for a mortifying second, Eddie is certain she's embarrassed. Certain she's going to shove it away, gloss over the question and move the conversation swiftly on. She doesn't, though.

"It means fate." She says steadily. They lock eyes again across the room and she grins, melts him. Only someone who knows her as well as he does would see the mischief there. Eddie takes a sip of cold beer and swallows. She speaks again. "It means destiny."

✨read more of this 'verse here✨

#hellcheer #a lil something from the lay beside me 'verse bc ive been neglecting them for a while #set in summer '87

[himikochan]

thoughts on the costuming in rings of power?

HELLO hello I've got a lot of thoughts all over the place and they are below the cut

I wanna start with some caveats re: me and rings of power

-I am a professional costumer and I've worked with people in film/streaming/tv/etc and professionals in/out of the union but my main work is in live theater

-I am a Big Old Tolkien Nerd but have only read the Silmarillion a few times and not recently

-I am 100% on team

I am so far on Team No Hate Watching that I called up my Tolkien friends back in 2020 to debate whether we'd watch anything Amazon made for the LotR-universe and unanimously decided we wouldn't trust the universe with Amazon

so that being said, everything I've seen of Rings of Power is from the trailer and screen caps on tumblr/facebook

ALSO when I refer to the Lord of the Rings movies, I am referring to the Peter Jackson movies because I do not have the time to compare every adaption

So what I’d like to start off with is the weird trend of like... romanticized Roman/Greek and Celtic-Briton influences 

(^ Gil-galad- a Noldorin)

(^ Isildur and.... Numenoreans? idk didn’t watch)

(^ Sadoc Burrows, Harfoot Hobbit)

(^Durin IV of Durin’s Folk/Khazad-dûm)

(^Disa - didn’t watch, google just says she’s a dwarf)

A lot of these costumes are distinctly referencing what we think of as classical Greek/Roman and Celtic-Briton clothes (note: “actual” clothes for Greeks, Romans, and Celtic-Britons were different- and I think it’s important to make the distinction between historical garb and the way it’s been stylized in the last 100 years).

Greek/Roman Influences: the stylized wreath crown, the way they’ve draped most of the cloths into chiton, peplos, himation, and chlamys, the broad swaths of unadorned/untextured fabrics 

Celtic-Briton-ish-ish Influences: I’m feeling this in the dye palette they chose which yes I know isn’t super-duper location specific but these colors look very derived from woad, madder, weld, lichen, and gall nuts which have usually been available in the isles, tell me Durin’s crown doesn’t you of the Waterloo Bridge Helmet, the studded armor is kind of ahistorical but frequently dramatized for Celtic-Britons, here just pop around this article (Celtic Clothing: Bronze Age to the Sixth Century) and I think you’ll get what I mean 

I guess that’s a choice to make it seem “earlier” than the other Tolkien movies we’ve seen lately, but carries across the different groups it seems too bland/similar across it all for me. Without getting too deep, these folx are from different ethnic groups/races and it’s kind of weird their clothes don’t seem more distanced from each other (they hail from Aman, Numenor, the Shire/Eriador, and Khazad-dûm/Misty Mountains).

But maybe more importantly I think it’s pretty weird they didn’t push the design more in an art nouveau/pre-raphaelite direction: considering that both of those design philosophies fit in much more neatly with Tolkien’s work and what he emphasized in his descriptions. Both lean more towards figures that are nestled in the natural world and emphasize the beauty of organic curves and a world a little more intense (especially in color) that ours is. Gil-Galad’s cloak does have a watery drape which is nice but the lines of his cross belt, color palette, and the brooches overwhelmingly read more imperial Roman than Tolkien character.

All of this makes Galadrial’s armor so much more... dissonant with the rest of the costuming. Her cuirass/mail combo reads so much more aggressively modern than the rest of it- even more modern than the armor of Lord of the Rings (which, admittedly had similar plate/mail combos but leaned more into a faux-medieval stylization). Also, to be nit picky, I think the lack of a gorget (neck piece) in field armor looks weird :S

I tried to find a better example to illustrate my point but here’s Ingres’ Joan of Arc at the Coronation of Charles VII which is an 1854 depiction of an event that took place in 1429 and presents a very modern adaption of armor. NGL my mind keeps filling the spot on Galadrial’s plate with the sacred heart- her armor reads as such a Catholic-virginal-femme-knight vibe which is very much at odds with the overly classical costumes for the rest of the characters.

I do think her armor is cool looking but it doesn’t feel like it exists in the world of Rings of Power nor does it really fit in with the Lord of the Rings movies... The closest I could think of offhand is Aragorn/Elessar’s armor for the coronation in Return of the King and even that reads as “older” or more grounded in the film-world than Galadrial’s.

.

I’ve seen a lot of comments on the costume quality in costuming groups so I’ve linked the above post here [it’s a public post so you don’t need a facebook account to view it] which covers a lot of it but I’ll have my own rant too.

There’s for sure a decrease in the quality of costumes from the Lord of the Rings movies which is... so disappointing and TBH expected from the most expensive tv show ever in 2022 and from Amazon. I think a lot of people are aware of the aggressive shift towards using CGI for messing around with costumes: it takes TIME and MONEY and SKILL to produce the wonderful costumes we saw in Lord of the Rings and, to be frank, the work of many many costume/IATSE union members which Amazon isn’t going to pay for. The overall time frame for producing tv/movies has gotten a lot shorter which has forced a lot of costuming departments to cut corners in design and execution.

That is how rumpled costumes make it on the screen, that is how you get so many wigs that move unnaturally, that is how the most expensive tv show ever gets such a... bland and milquetoast design. The Lord of the Rings costumes were littered with so many small and very intentional details that brought more personality to the characters and made the world seem more grounded and real.

HOWEVER- I would like to make a note on Miriel’s screen printed undershirt.

I’ve been making clothes a long time, I’ve seen a fair amount of all levels of live theater, I’ve gone to fashion exhibitions, and seen a lot of movies. What I mean to say, is that I’ve seen a lot of art involving clothes/costuming with big and small budgets and many different intentions. Over the last few years, I’ve seen the expectations for local theater and bespoke clothing rise dramatically while keeping the pay low and rushing for time- I think a lot of people are so disconnected from the process of making clothes that it’s been hard to temper your expectations away from what a big budget movie house is able to do.

I 100% Absolutely Think that Rings Of Power SHOULD have done so much better!!! They literally had so much money they could have invested in costume professionals and materials and taken their time to let a nuanced and well-made wardrobe emerge. 

But! I would like to take a moment to admire Miriel’s screen printed undershirt. I’ve seen a lot of people bash it without nuance. It’s not an appropriate solution for literally the most expensive tv show ever- but can you imagine what a clever idea this is if you were putting on a dance performance and needed a full range of movement? Or if you’re staging a production of Cinderella and bought a plastic breastplate and your producer (OhFuckOhFuckOhFuck) only budgeted $100 for a character that’s supposed to be fully armored?

Costume designers and shop workers are overwhelmingly paid less than their peers in other departments (maybe it’s because many of them are from marginalized genders.....) and frequently given a smaller budget than other departments in live theater. I recently had a friend of a friend reach out to me about a musical where they budgeted $300 for 20 full costumes!!! That’s $15 a costume from a professional theater!!!

I absolutely adore the tremendous growth in cosplay we’ve seen over the past decade and the cool costumes we’ve seen from high-budget period and fantasy shows: but a lot of your “run-of-the-mill” costume designers have been run ragged trying to meet the expectations of Hollywood movies on a shoestring budget and it’s been disheartening to see a lot of these kinds of practical solutions bashed online. There was and should have remained a distinction between the quality expectations of big budget films or the passion projects of a cosplayer VERSUS what the majority of professionals do within their budget.

I’ve heard more than a few of my fellow designers and technicians cry because a costume looked GREAT with the distance from stage to audience or properly lit- but was bashed from a close up photo or because the director didn’t like that the “illusion”/solution only worked on stage. I’ve seen catty arguments online where a costumer is trying to build their own platform shoes (VERY VERY DANGEROUS unless you’re a professional cobbler) because the show was usually done with them, their director insisted on them, and they didn’t have the resources to purchase new/used. Fuck I’ve worked rentals with people from a few of these actual high budget houses- trying to stretch a budget until it screams.

There’s a whole complicated discourse on fair wages and labor practices and budgeting that I’m not ready to get into- but I’d like to ask you to think of kindness and the suspension of disbelief. It doesn’t solve the structural problems that need to change, but a lot of professional costumers love their art/craft and are proud of the solutions they come up with in their line of work! Obviously we should expect better quality in examples like these- but I’d like to celebrate some of the costumes that are less “realistic” or “immersive” but do such a good job of conveying their part of the narrative that we overlook the proverbial screen-printed undershirt.

(Hel, Metropolis- needs no comment I love her)

(Monty Python and the Holy Grail- knitted chainmail)

(Jareth, The Labyrinth- one CRUNCHY wig)

(Dorothy, The Wizard of Oz- ruby slippers made with dyed satin and organza, three different kind of glass and plastic beads/sequins, and lit exceptionally well)

.

I’m not the expert on all of this and I’d love to hear other people’s thoughts (please be kind and act in good faith)! I’m not about to say great things about the Amazon costumes for Rings of Power, but I hope that you’ll be more forgiving online for other designers making the best of their time/budget 

Love, your local costume professional

#hello hello #kaasknot #this ended up being way more scattered than i thought it would be #but here's my rant #rings of power #lord of the rings #lotr #tolkien fandom #costuming #costumes

[frozenwolftemplar]

Writer's Month Day 4: Memories

Okay, so: I love this prompt. One of my favorite things to explore in fics are how memories affect characters (consciously or subconsciously) in the present. I *have* a draft of a 'Carmen' fic that fits this prompt, but...it needs more time than I can give at the nonce to be what I want it to be. SO: have a shorter one! (and by shorter, I mean 1,100 words instead of over 2,000 🙃)

Fandom: Carmen Sandiego (the Netflix one)

Rating: G

Summary: Kind of plotless to be honest; after Carmen's team gets her back she has a quiet moment to herself and pokes around her room, trying to feel like herself again. Luckily, when memories prove elusive, Ivy's around to help.

+++

Sunset hues flowed over the cityscape, pinks and oranges streaking across the sky and sliding over chrome and steel and glass, cheering the final glories of the day as the sun setting over the bay opposite turned the innumerable windows a dazzling, blinding gold.

It was a beautiful sight, which, Carmen supposed, was why she’d claimed this room in the warehouse as her own.

Even though she couldn’t remember it.

Turning away from the vista, she let her gaze rove over the red-accented room. It was...strange, being back here again after six interminable months unwilling filling the role of VILE’s brainwashed pawn. Strange, because while the room felt familiar, she couldn’t shake the competing sensation of being an intruding stranger.

The assortment of postcards Scotch-taped to the wall from Beijing and New Orleans and Sydney and dozens of places in between; the globe covered in red Sharpie dots; the evening gowns (all in shades of red, naturally) swapping stories of galas and soirées in a closet big enough to be another bedroom; they all felt like they belonged to...someone else, someone who *hadn’t* spent half a year ripping cultural treasures from their rightful places in the world and dropping them with a careless sneer into the waiting pockets of a criminal mastermind quartet.

It was with uneasy steps that Carmen moved about the room, feeling like an out-of-place broken and jagged Picasso pastiache of a person in a Pre-Raphaelite gallery, lightly running a hand along the desk (dust-free, she couldn’t help but note) as she carefully picked through shards of memories for something to make the room feel like hers again, truly, not just from everyone’s say-so.

The open door of the closet beckoned, and Carmen wandered in, and now the exploring hand was ran along the gowns, admiringly (they were *quite* nice and all to her taste), self-consciously (after everything she did, she didn’t deserve these). The susurration of rustling fabric brushed past Carmen, causing some paper shred of a memory to flutter as though under a breeze, but it didn’t lift, staying limp and dejected where it lay.

So much for that.

Sighing, she turned towards the door when a glint from a nearby recess caught her eye.

A vanity table of dark cherry wood, complete with mirror and curved claw-footed legs, sat, dignified and aware of not just its own splendor but that of the richly-attired reflections that had graced its mirror, in a niche. Carmen couldn’t stop the echo of a fond smile that tugged at her lips as she moved to stand in front of it (not sit, even though the cushioned stool was at the ready; it didn’t feel right). *An antique,* the Cleo-trained corner of her mind supplied without a second’s hesitation. Not a particularly valuable one, Carmen noted as she deftly picked out dings on the surface and scratches on the legs, but nice enough to have duly earned its pride of place in her (or, well, former pre-criminal her’s) closet.

Besides, she’d needed somewhere to stash the jewelry.

Even with the pieces of herself cracked and in disarray, Carmen knew without looking that the various drawers and boxes lined neatly across the surface held pendants and rings (never earrings; she only needed one pair of those), chokers and hairpins, and decorative combs whose value had little to do with the rubies and gold filigree festooning them but much to their ability to keep thick auburn tresses tamed and in-place (not that the jewels weren’t appreciated). Her other self had had an eye for jewelry as well (though only as far as its resale value went, never sparing time for anything so ‘frivolous’), so even to her fractured mind the presence of such a glistening array made sense

The bottles lined up in front of the mirror, though...

Picking one up, Carmen studied it. Perfume? She wore perfume? Judging by how the bottle was half-empty the answer was ‘yes,’ but...

Her temple pounded as she attempted mental contortions that had her thoughts twisting in knots, and her reflection wilted in the mirror when the effort failed to yield fruit. But she couldn’t remember.

“Hey.”

The bottle itself nearly became a memory as Carmen started. Recovering from her near fumble, she turned to see Ivy leaning against the door frame, smiling softly. She tilted her head towards the hall. “Dinner’s ‘bout ready. You...” sh hesitated, brows pinching with concern. “...doing okay?”

Carmen shrugged, neither a yes or no, but didn’t elaborate, instead electing to hold up the perfume bottle. “Is this really mine?”

Ivy brightened. “You bet it is, boss.” Straightening up, she came fully into the closet and taking the bottle from Carmen. “I don’t think you ever attended a gala without a spritz.” She hummed recognition as she tapped the logo molded into the glass front. “This is one of your favorites. You let me use some once, remember? When we crashed that fancy-pants car party in Dubai.”

Carmen knitted her brows, thinking. Yes...she did remember being in Dubai...vaguely. Rooftops. A blimp. Her shouting angrily at someone (to be fair, though, that happened in a lot of the green-tinted memories). But ‘crashing’ a ‘car party?’

Was that the sort of thing it was even *possible* to forget?

Flashing a grin Carmen’s way, Ivy spritzed the air and sauntered through the mist, striking a pose that was comedically aristocratic. “What do you think, darling?” she said in an exaggerated posh accent. “Aren’t I *fancy?*”

She wasn’t, it was obvious even to the oblivious high heels nestled in their cubbies. But Carmen didn’t answer right away, the heady scent wafting through the closet and across her nose carrying more than indistinct florals. A hotel room, one of the Palm Jumeriah’s finest; her in black and gold and red elegance in front of a mirror, twisting her hair into a knot at the nape of her neck; Ivy in lavender popping in to ask if she looked ‘fancy’ enough; then the both of them were laughing in the mirror as they were both rendered ‘fancier’ courtesy of that same bottle in Carmen’s hands and Ivy acted accordingly, striking that same ridiculous pose.

Something clicked inside her head, and even though she still couldn’t recall the particulars of the Dubai caper Ivy was referring to or the galas the jewelry had seen, the room suddenly felt more like *hers,* and her world, this world of warehouses and charity and fighting the good fight, shone a little brighter, even with the shadows of her VILE self that still darkened her own and guilt that throbbed along with the ever-present headache that had taken up residence in her temples.

Because Ivy has always had a way of doing that.

Carmen felt the tug again, and for the first time in she-had-no-idea-how-long, laughed.

#carmen sandiego 2019 #carmen sandiego #ivy #fanfic #carmen fanfic #writersmonth2023 #writersmonth #in which i write

[warblingandwriting]

Ah! wherefore all this wormy circumstance? Why linger at the yawning tomb so long? O for the gentleness of old Romance, The simple plaining of a minstrel's song! Fair reader, at the old tale take a glance, For here, in truth, it doth not well belong To speak:—O turn thee to the very tale, And taste the music of that vision pale.

Isabella or, The Pot of Basil, John Keats, 1819.

This is a painting made to go with this poem, but another artist associated with the pre-raphaelite movement, Mary Lizzie Macomber.

The portion of the poem above, which I think is very affecting, describes Isabella looking into her lover's grave, and imploring the reader not to do the same. The painting represents the later part in the story where the Isabella brings her lover's corpse home from his unmarked grave, and re-buries in a basil pot, which she weeps over until it sprouts luscious basil. Much of Macomber's work was lost in a fire in 1903, but this painting is dated 1908.

I included them together because they are both adaptations in a way, from a much earlier story in The Decameron, and I find them both quite beautiful.

#poems #poetry #art #history #18th and 19thC stuff

[drinkerofsoma]

"The Rock of Doom", Edward Burne-Jones (1888) left "The Doom Fulfilled", Edward Burne-Jones (1888) right It doesn’t take long for one to notice that the depiction of tragic females was a fairly common subject in the Pre-Raphaelite Movement [1]. Present here in the above works of Burne-Jones is the pitiable Andromeda, born of royal blood, she was the daughter of the Aethiopian King Cepheus and his consort Cassiopeia. It is said that in age’s past, her mother had once boasted about Andromeda’s beauty, suggesting it be one that surpassed that of the Nereids. Such a claim was an offense to both their father Nereus and their lord Poseidon, prompting the divinity to unleash the serpentine foe, Cetus, unto the kingdom’s shores. With this tragedy befalling upon his lands, the king sought the advice of an oracle, only to receive an answer quite grave. In order to quell the rage of the Gods and rid themselves of the menacing beast, his daughter had to be sacrificed! As it was his duty, Cepheus put the safety of his kingdom first and thus offered young Andromeda to be consumed by Cetus.

Chained to a rock at the edge of the shore, awaiting her doom, the gallant Perseus chances upon the maiden:

"Now hovering there, he seemed to hear a sound Unlike the sea-bird's cry, and looking round, He saw a figure standing motionless Beneath the cliff, midway 'twixt ness and ness, And as the wind lull'd heard that cry again, That sounded like the wail of one in pain; Wondering thereat, and seeking marvels new He lighted down, and toward the place he drew, And made invisible by Pallas' aid, He came within the scarped cliff's purple shade, And found a woman standing lonely there, Naked, except for tresses of her hair That o'er her white limbs by the breeze were wound, And brazen chains her weary arms that bound Unto the sea-beat overhanging rock, As though her golden-crowned head to mock. But nigh her feet upon the sand there lay Rich raiment that had covered her that day, Worthy to be the ransom of a king, Unworthy round such loveliness to cling. . . . Then unseen Perseus stole anigh the maid, And love upon his heart a soft hand laid, And tender pity rent it for her pain; Not yet an eager cry could he refrain, As now, transformed by that piteous sight, Grown like unto a God for pride and might, Down on the sand the mystic cap he cast And stood before her with flushed face at last, And grey eyes glittering with his great desire Beneath his hair, that like a harmless fire Blown by the wind shone in her hopeless eyes. But she, all rigid with her first surprise, Ceasing her wailing as she heard his cry, Stared at him, dumb with fear and misery, Shrunk closer yet unto the rocky place And writhed her bound hands as to hide her face; But sudden love his heart did so constrain, With open mouth he strove to speak in vain And from his heart the hot tears 'gan to rise; But she midst fear beheld his kind grey eyes, and then, as hope came glimmering through her dread, In a weak voice he scare could hearm she said," O Death! If though hast risen from the sea, Sent by the gods to end this misery, I thank them that thou comest in this form, Who rather thought to see a hideous worm Come trailing up the sands from out the deep." — "The Doom of King Acrisius," I. 269-70

Smitten, the virile hero approaches Cepheus and Cassiopeia for their daughter’s hand in exchange for slaying the vile beast, before venturing forth to conquer it: "He beheld the sea, And saw a huge wave rising mightily Above the smaller breakers of the shore, Which in its green breast for a minute bore A nameless horror, that it cast aland And left, a huge mass on the oozing sand, That scarcely seemed a living thing to be, Until at last those twain it seemed to see, And gathering up its strange limbs, towards them passed. And therewithal a dismal trumpet-blast Rang from the tower, and from the distant town The wind in answer brought loud wails adown. Then Perseus gently put the maid from him, Who sank down shivering in her every limb, Silent despite herself for fear and woe, As down the beach he ran to meet the foe. But he, beholding Jove's son drawing near, A great black fold against him did uprear, Maned with grey tufts of hair, as some old tree Hung round with moss, in lands where vapours be; From his bare skull his red eyes glowed like flame And from his open mouth a sound there came, Strident and hideous, that still louder grew As that rare sight of one in arms he knew: But godlike, fearless, burning with desire, The adamant jaws and lidless eyes of fire Did Perseus mock, and lightly leapt aside As forward did the torture-chamber glide Of his huge head, and ere the beast could turn, One moment bright did blue-edged Herpe burn, The next was quenched in the black flow of blood; Then in confused folds the hero stood, His bright face shadowed by the jaws of death, His hair blown backward by the poisonous breath; But all that passed, like lightning-lighted street In the dark night, as the blue blade did meet The wrinkled neck, and with no faltering stroke, Like a God's hand the fell enchantment broke, And then again in place of crash and roar, He heard the shallow breakers on the shore, And o'er his head the sea-gull's plaintive cry, Careless as Gods for who might live or die." — "The Doom of King Acrisius" I. 274-75 With the death of the serpent, the twain finally became one. Many a child born of their union, ultimately bearing a lineage that begets the great Heracles himself! Notes: [1]: Not always were these woman mythological figures, see Rossetti’s unfinished piece “Found” (1859). 

Links to text: The Doom of King Acrisius: http://www.victorianweb.org/authors/morris/poems/doom.html

Metamorphoses (the original source material): https://ovid.lib.virginia.edu/trans/Ovhome.htm#askline "See how the creature comes parting the waves, with surging breast, like a fast ship, with pointed prow, ploughing the water, driven by the sweat-covered muscles of her crew. It was as far from the rock as a Balearic sling can send a lead shot through the air, when suddenly the young hero, pushing his feet hard against the earth, shot high among the clouds. When the shadow of a man appeared on the water' surface, the creature raged against the shadow it had seen. As Jupiter's eagle, when it sees a snake, in an open field, showing its livid body to the sun, takes it from behind, and fixes its eager talons in the scaly neck, lest it twists back its cruel fangs, so the descendant of Inachus hurling himself headlong, in swift flight, through empty space, attacked the creature's back, and, as it roared, buried his sword, to the end of the curved blade, in the right side of its neck. Hurt by the deep wound, now it reared high in the air, now it dived underwater, or turned now, like a fierce wild boar, when the dogs scare him, and the pack is baying around him. Perseus evades the eager jaws on swift wings, and strikes with his curved sword wherever the monster is exposed, now at the back encrusted with barnacles, now at the sides of the body, now where the tail is slenderest, ending fishlike. The beast vomits seawater mixed with purplish blood. The pinions grow heavy, soaked with spray. Not daring to trust his drenched wings any further, he sees a rock whose highest point stands above quiet water, hidden by rough seas. Resting there, and holding on to the topmost pinnacle with his left hand, he drives his sword in three or four times, repeatedly. The shores, and the high places of the gods, fill with the clamor of applause. Cassiope and Cepheus rejoice, and greet their son-in-law, acknowledging him as the pillar of their house, and their deliverer. Released from her chains, the girl comes forward, the prize and the cause of his efforts. He washes his hands, after the victory, in seawater drawn for him, and, so that Medusa's head, covered with its snakes, is not bruised by the harsh sand, he makes the ground soft with leaves, and spreads out plants from below the waves, and places the head of that daughter of Phorcyson them. The fresh plants, still living inside, and absorbent, respond to the influence of the Gorgon's head, and harden at its touch, acquiring a new rigidity in branches and fronds. And the ocean nymphs try out this wonder on more plants, and are delighted that the same thing happens at its touch, and repeat it by scattering the seeds from the plants through the waves. Even now corals have the same nature, hardening at a touch of air, and what was alive, under the water, above water is turned to stone." — Metamorphosis 4.706-752 For more information on Burne-Jones himself, here is a fantastic documentary: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cmO3ZO9TGgA&feature=youtu.be

#fine art #pre-raphaelite #painting #edward burne jones #greek mythology #perseus #andromeda

[operafantomet]

HARRIET JONES' FOUR MAIN WIGS

Whereas she went through various shades and stylings in West End I would say her first wig and her later wigs can be categorized as two main styles. Then comes her two very different blonde wigs in Greece and the Middle East Tour. So here's a photoset on that.

WEST END 2013-2014: Her very first Christine wig, and possibly one of my all-time favourites of all Christines ever. So epic, so pre-Raphaelite, so long, so lush, so auburn. So suited for her. I am gaga about this wig.

WEST END 2015-2017: Still auburn, still long, still very nice on her, but curlier, and not AS red.

GREECE 2023: A blonde wig emulating her original West End look, except blonde and not as curly. A few small curls over the forehead and this would have been quite a perfect look.

RIYADH 2023: Then enters Marilyn Monroe... Shorter, more defined side-parted hair, and tighter curls. Not my favourite look on her, nor for Christine in general as the costumes in this production are Edwardian-ish while this is more of a 1950s look. But probably effective on stage. Curious to see if they continue this look in Dubai.

#harriet jones #not dr who #phantom of the opera #christine wig #costume nerding #poto west end #auburn christine #poto greece #poto middle east tour #blonde christine

[mi5014-abbiesmith]

When I was discussing this module’s research element with my family, my mum mentioned having a book on myths that she could send to me. This book conveniently matched the mural I have started developing, with a lot of influence from old English myth and a slight romanticisation that came from the Victorian era. A lot of the myths in this book have links to this time period and already a couple have stood out as things to research further. The book is split into areas of Britain,  so for now I have focused on looking at the ones from the South East, where I am from, and from the North East, here. I think focusing on areas that have some kind of connection to me would be more meaningful and interesting personally, as I can relate it to areas I physically know. For exam there is a couple myths here about Kit’s Coty, somewhere I have been many times as a child and something I used as inspiration before.  I have drawn the standing stones that share the same name and created a small animation about them in my foundation year.

What I think is interesting is that this book has been in my house all my life and I’ve never read it, yet my initial research pointed me in a similar direction anyway. What is likely, is that my mum's love for Pre-Raphaelite art and things of this genre have influenced me without realising, which is why I started at this point instead of all the others that relate to myth. 

[nimblermortal]

So @hello-delicious-tea​ and I have been discussing the existence of a Queen’s Thief television series, and how we agree that it should be animated, but moreover that each viewpoint character has a different animation style.

The Thief

Gen: First person viewpoint. We see his hands, but not himself, until the end. This underscores his Unreliable Narrative viewpoint, which is also expressed through flashbacks from multiple characters’ points of view, as they interpret things Gen is telling them (e.g. how he learned to climb and balance). Gen’s style generally is 90s animation, some cross between Atlantis and Animated Stories from the Bible (or Ghibli?). Gen is very biased; the Magus is drawn like Rasputin in Anastasia. In the reveal, the camera zooms out and we see Gen for the first time, and he looks a lot like Eddis. “Who Wore This Face Better” sort of a lot (Gen wore it better).

In The Thief, Gen’s art is very stylized, simple animation - but when he forgets himself, detail starts to creep in, or when he’s telling a story things get much more fine. This at first looks like it’s a tell for what is a story, but in the reveal we also switch to that more detailed animation, and you realize that this is who Gen actually is.

Irene: Is always in pre-Raphaelite mode, regardless of who is telling the story. She herself tells things in Angel’s Egg style, beautiful but with little to no color. Gen passes through her life and flushes everything into a bit of color around him, which is not always pleasant - in the dungeon scene, from Irene’s perspective, the color he makes is like the Ohmu in Nausicaa or the curse in Princess Mononoke: It’s very unpleasant and wrong, and she interprets this as bad, but it’s still color.

The Magus: The only part of the series that is done in live action. He notices things in detail for what they are. Even Gen is not animated. The only place CGI comes in is at The Cliff Scene, where from Gen’s perspective we got “I touched a sword and it was awful and I lost anyway” and from the Magus’s perspective we go full Shaolin Soccer on this thing.

Ambiades: Art style is notably similar to Gen’s. We only see his viewpoint once, perhaps, after you’ve figured out the POV thing. This is 100% fodder for The Meta - what about Ambiades is so close to Gen? The difference is that everyone in Ambiades’s perspective is drawn as a Disney villain, and Gen is drawn as the Anastasia-Rasputin figure. To further feed The Meta, Ambiades’s image of himself is also a Disney villain.

Sophos and Helen: are both Disney, but Sophos is 90s-to-modern Disney and Helen is Classic Disney.

The Queen of Attolia

Irene: We get much more Angel’s Egg perspective here, and what’s happening with the color around Gen becomes clear for the first time. Things somehow manage to get even more washed out as the war progresses. The Mede is in full stop sign red at all times.

Gen: Everything gets overlaid in blues, and we’re back to a relatively simple art style. When he finally gets talked into doing something, the detail snaps back into place, but we only start defeating the blue filter when he starts getting some humor back.

The Minister of War: ??

The King of Attolia

Costis: Anime. This is particularly entertaining as regards Gen, who goes through a progression of anime tropes (blank-faced, demonic, Way of the House Husband, 80s bishi hero...) before he gets protagonist hair. Costis himself is drawn as a background character.

Thick as Thieves

Kamet: Book of Kells approach to art, with Minoan wall art or Greek vases. Kamet is our viewpoint character, but is never represented. It is very clear that this is art that tells a story, and that Kamet does not consider himself part of that story. At the end of the arc, when Gen asks him where the army is, Kamet literally walks onto the page of the narrative in order to answer.

There is a Cretan octopus joke inserted into the animation.

Return of the Thief

Pheris: Starts out as basically Donald in Mathemagic Land. Pheris is in the middle, with no illusions about his own shape, but he’s in a halo of darkness where patterns and math happen around him. In the corners of the screen, there’s a fairly realistic art style as people talk about him and try to shift him, but even when he moves himself, he is walking across nothingness. This halo shrinks and grows depending on the scene and who is present, and it becomes clear that Pheris is in command of it, and chooses to live in his mathematical otherworld. It shrinks to nothingness in key emotional scenes, but tends to be larger when Pheris is declaring that he is an impartial observer.

#queen's thief series #drafts folder