(Cross-posted to LiveJournal)
When last we saw him, Mr. J and Dr. Quinzel were meeting in the Arkham cafeteria for therapy (a perk after J's being attacked by Dr. Strange). This time, the Arkham staff are testing the therapeutic effects of art ...
New from TheJokerBlogs, "Artistic Merit":
The way he pauses at 3:51 is just perfect--going from anger to interest to flippancy to blank consideration to anger again with renewed artistic vigor. Along with his take on the Mona Lisa and a portrait of Jerry the giraffe (from a comic strip he did months ago), Harleen's portrait is posted on DeviantArt:
Harlequin by ~thejokerblogs on deviantART
The altered version is on Facebook: here.
Also the inclusion of Pearl (from Arkham Asylum, and voice work done by MsManagr) at the end made me smile.
More to do with TheJokerBlogs: I ordered what will hopefully be a better version of my WWJokerD T-shirt (a white T instead of green this time). Alas, the red text on the green shirt has not had a lasting power in the washing machine. The result is that, from not very far away, it just looks like a WWJD slogan--and this in spite of only ever washing it in cold water. So I'm going to "fix" it myself, as it's well beyond the 30-day return time limit set by CafePress, and MsManagr has given me the go-ahead to vandalise the hell out of it.
I think this is going to be fun. When it's done, I'll show and tell.
Showing posts with label art. Show all posts
Showing posts with label art. Show all posts
14 June 2009
"Artistic Merit"
05 June 2009
a question of taste
(Cross-posted to LiveJournal)
Regarding some of yesterday's tweets--
For whatever reasons he may have (in or out of character), @TheJokerBlogs asked his Twitter followers who their favourite artists were. And I responded, and you can see the response [on Twitter].
Now he wants to know our favourite work of art [...]
That's even more difficult than the first question, really. Art is so varied, I just don't see the point in narrowing down all mediums of art to one art form and then choosing a favourite in that category. I still responded--on YouTube, because there's no point in pretending that the answer will fit into 140 characters:
... Once again, I'm pretty sure I don't have a single favourite. The ParkeHarrisons' "Architect's Brother" [I cheated here, as this is an entire exhibit of their work, but, well, I love it.]. Füssli's "Nightmare". Bruegel's "Triumph of Death". Escher's "Eye". ... They're kind of cliché. Oh, well.
I'm wondering where all of this is leading. Is Mr. J planning to rob and/or vandalise an art gallery? Something else deviant and devious?
... Or is this just for "gits and shiggles"?
(Yes, keeping my language silly and clean for YouTube ...) And, honestly, I'm still quite certain that those aren't my "favourites". They're just ones I admire that I happened to think of at the time. More will probably rise to the surface as the day wears on.
So I'll pose the question to the people reading this: Who is your favourite artist (if you have one)? And what is your favourite work of art (again, if you have one)?
(Comments from LiveJournal)
Melissa: As far as art goes, I can't fairly say - my exposure is far too narrow to give a good opinion, I think.
Of artists I've *seen* though, I tend to lean toward Impressionists for personal preference. Something about the color use attracts my eye..JPG)
Nicole: I guess my favorite artist is Seurat, though I also really (strangely enough) like modern art in all its wackiness, especially Yves Klein.
18 December 2007
would-be presents
I kind of wish that I'd thought of doing nuigurumi gifts for Christmas.
Before last night. Because that's when I finally thought of it. You know, eight days before Christmas.
I fail.
I should have thought of it when Andrea mentioned drawing pictures for people for Christmas. But I'm a feather-brain, apparently.
And then I was looking at chibi-Strife last night, and thought, Ooh, I could make ... But it's more than a little late for that idea.
So far, I fail in general at Christmas shopping this year. I keep hearing about money influencing shoppers this season; but, for me, it has more to do with being a fuss-pot and hating everything I see. Or loving something for myself, but not being able to imagine the same level of elation in my would-be recipients.
John and Rodney already received their Lush presents. I gave Michelle her Tealuxe set at the same time I gave the boys their bath stuff.
As for the parents, so far, Dad has a Red Sox ornament, and they're both getting a couple boxes of jewel-toned ornaments (not particularly for either of them, so I'll probably just label it, "Parents" or some more inventive title that strikes me later). I visited three department stores in search of decent pajamas for Mum, but no luck. Is there any wonder that people have forsaken foot-shopping for Amazon?
Oh, and on the subject of wrapping ... I'm not wrapping anything until I get to Durham, just on the off-chance that airport security decides to tear open my suitcase. Because the last thing I need is to have them freak out, rip open carefully-wrapped presents, and then discover that mess upon reaching Durham. Honestly, I'm already worried enough about transporting glass ornaments without the added stress of: "Will they or won't they feel the need to unwrap?"
Flying out of here in little more than two days, and I still haven't packed. Excellent.
29 January 2007
pure morning
Oh, this past weekend ... ~_~
And now for a more-detailed account of the weekend's events, adventures in Providence, and terrorists on skis.
Friday afternoon I left work and headed inbound, stopping at Park Street to browse through the Borders at Downtown Crossing (and apparently there's another Borders on Boylston St. now, too?). I was looking for books on doll-making (big surprise, that is) and drawing super-deformed characters (chibi!), since the human dolls I'm interested in making are of the chibi/SD variety. All around, that was a very discouraging stop, since there was really nothing I could use in stock.
Art dolls are ... interesting, but they give me the creeps. I'm not talking about sock creatures or weird animals or patch-work creations--but rather dolls like this. I recognize their art value; I can even understand why some people would want to collect and create them; but I wouldn't deal well with having one in my room. I would have Puppet Master nightmares (except that the nightmares would actually be scary rather than stupidly funny, like those movies).
From Park Street, I went to Harvard Square to visit Tokyo Kid, looking to see if they had any plushies in a discount bin; because, at a cheap enough price, I wouldn't mind buying one just to take it apart. Yes, I should've known better, really. Nothing is ever cheap at that store. Plushies of the type I was interested in were starting at $14. Yeah. No. Not for a UFO-catcher doll. Not when I've seen them on eBay for $6.
They did have how-to guides for drawing manga characters, but they weren't really what I wanted (and $20 besides); so I left without buying anything and continued on to The Coop. They were also a no-go for doll-making books, but they did have a very nice selection of manga-drawing books on the lowest shelf in their Art section. I might've bought one, but when I looked at the neverending line for the cashier, I lost my verve and opted to just go home. It was easy to do, really, since I knew I'd be spending money on Saturday. And since I went to Amazon.com, and ordered this.
And, check, spent money on Saturday. Melissa picked me up at the train station and we drove 'round to The Fabric Place and A.C. Moore. At The Fabric Place (where my head spun around and exploded upon entering--no, not really, but yikes, it's overwhelming) I bought velour in white and light gray, an evergreen suede, and a book on the basics of making soft toys. A.C. Moore had beanie babies for $4 ... yes, ashamed to say it, but I bought two: a skunk and an owl who have joined Jiji on the top of my television set. Oh! and some fat quarters in red, black, purple, and blue with different and interesting patterns.
Really, I wasn't as bad as I'd expected. The grand total could've been much worse.
After that, we went back to Melissa's to pick up Erich so we could all go to lunch. We went to The Texas Roadhouse. It's awesome. Yeah, the music is country-western, and we could all live without that, but the food ... The food is really just to-die-for. I haven't had steak in ... forever; and this was the perfect reunion for me and steak. And I ate alllll my food--and didn't really notice how full I was until it was time to get up and leave. And Mel very graciously spotted me the money for dinner again, so I really must buy her and Erich dinner next time around. I feel like a free-loader! TT_TT
Then we went back to the house for stitching and season two of Doctor Who. The six-minute segue between the end of season one and "The Christmas Invasion" (that I'd never seen before) really helps the Christmas special make more sense (so far as Rose accepting the Doctor's body-change, and how they crash). And holy crap, I love the outtakes so much. It makes me want to dress up as a cyberman and run around the Common, chasing squirrels and pigeons. Mmm. David Tennant.
And I was being productive too! I cut new arms (as I was less than pleased with my first attempt), hand-stitched them, and hand-sewed them into the torso seam, all ready to be stuffed when I got home. That doesn't seem like very much when typed out, but it took me a while to do all that. I think the biggest headache was in figuring out the placement of the arms in seams; because I wanted the seams to be perpendicular, not lined up (I like making life difficult for myself). But after they were pinned into place, it wasn't too bad.
After the Doctor Who outtakes, Mel drove me home--which was super-nice of her. And I, of course, stayed awake to stuff the doll's arms and torso, and attach the head. This was all while half-heartedly watching Icebreaker. I didn't know what the hell was happening in that movie by the time I'd finished crafting and was actually paying attention ... so I started the DVD over again from the beginning. And promptly fell asleep.
I tried to watch it again on Sunday morning. It's a really bad movie, Bruce Campbell and Sean Astin notwithstanding. A concise description of the plot idea would be "Die Hard with skis." If you think that sounds dumb, you don't know the half of it. I swear it was written by somebody (probably a former member of ski patrol) who was working at a ski resort and got bored. I can just see it:
"Oh, what if terrorists showed up?" [for no bloody reason at all] "Hmm. Yes. They need a reason to be here, don't they? ... Uhh, they've lost their nuclear weapons from Russia in a plane crash on the mountain! And the only way to get them back is to take the ski lodge hostage!" [never mind that Russia is small beans anymore, but they can't just sneak up there and get their nuclear stuff back without anybody noticing?] "No! We want this to be like Die Hard! And, instead of a cop, what if a member of the ski patrol had to save the day?" [because, you never know, it could happen] "And we can have terrorists on skis, chasing the hero down the black diamond trail!" [the terrorists know how to ski?] "Yes." [and snowboard?] "Yes!" [and shoot guns at the same time?] "YES!" [how do all the terrorists know how to ski?] "Because they do!" [and, yes, losing me ...]
You know that's how it went. Sean Astin should've known to stay away from terrorist movies after Toy Soldiers. Oh, well. In spite of its being a really dumb movie (actually, maybe because it's a really dumb movie), I did kind of enjoy it. But then I enjoyed Toy Soldiers too, and that's equally absurd.
Oh, yeah. A little after ten o'clock the doorbell rang. It was the USPS carrier. On Sunday. My package from Aranzi Aronzo had arrived--less than a week after ordering it. From Japan. And on a Sunday. The EMS packaging boasts: "fastest International delivery." I think they've earned that boast. I really didn't expect it to arrive that fast.
The book is beautiful and chock full of visual instructions that make it really easy to follow along. And the fact that I can read katakana helps a bit too.
On the invoice somebody wrote a small note in very neat (and somewhat broken) English. But it was just so nice. And personalized. And it definitely made me go: "Awwwwww!"
It might be a generalization of their culture, but it's a good one--and so, hopefully, forgiveable--but ... Japanese people are so damn nice.
11 January 2007
could be more sonic
I start where nightmares end.
Today I mistook Brueghel's "Triumph of Death" for something by Bosch ... I mean, they may have differing philosophies about life, death, and religion; but their painting styles feel very similar. Very "Where's Waldo" actually.
Seriously, though. Find the man wearing red pants, a blue shirt, and a white girdle thing.
You can do the same thing with any panel of Bosch's "Garden of Earthly Delights". In the center panel find the owl.
I think I'm predisposed to prefer Brueghel over Bosch, mostly because it was featured in the second part of Monty Python's "Spanish Inquisition" sketch.
The Harvard AMC is a good theatre so far as the non-stadium-seating variety go; however, the lack of indoor waiting room leaves something to be desired when there's a wind-chill in the 20s. I left my apartment at around 5 PM, and arrived at the Harvard T station at around 6 PM, surfacing at Church St. to find that the cinema had the line for the free preview of Pan's Labyrinth waiting along the outer wall of the building. Nicole was already in line, and only a few people from the front; so when they finally began to let the audience in, we basically had our choice of seats. And, really, had we been farther back in the line, I doubt it would've made a great difference. The theatre didn't fill up, and most of the right and left wings of the audience area were still empty by the time the lights began to dim.
Surprised? Not really. It never did strike me as something main-stream; it's in a foreign language, not an epic, nor does it have the kind of history and age to draw the kind of crowd that Lord of the Rings achieved. All that being said, it is a fairy tale for adults.
El Laberinto del Fauno (Pan's Labyrinth) - In this fairy tale for adults, 10-year-old Ofelia (Ivana Baquero) stumbles on a decaying labyrinth guarded by Pan (Doug Jones), an ancient satyr who claims to know her destiny. With a new home, a new stepfather (Sergi Lopez) -- a Fascist officer in the pro-Franco army -- and a new sibling on the way, nothing is familiar to Ofelia in this Independent Spirit Award-nominated tale set in 1944 Spain from director Guillermo del Toro (Hellboy, Blade 2).
Entering into it, and perhaps for the first half, one might think that the "adult" nature comes from the modern setting and vaguely period-based events that take place beside the fantasy; but even the fantastic elements possess an adult quality that I wouldn't recommend for children. Getting beyond the ambiguous Pan, there is the Pale Man (both acted by Doug Jones), a deformed monstrosity with cannibalistic tendencies. The story and rating allow for the gore of proper tales der Brüder Grimm (though, of course, this is entirely del Toro's product).
I do wish there had been more to tell about the step-father; there was a hint of dimension in the bare inclusion of his father's death as a topic in one conversation, but mostly we're left to a two-dimensional aspect of his character. He's cruel to Ofelia from the start; he doesn't especially care about his wife; and he only cares about his coming son insofar as the child represents a continuation of the Captain himself, a legacy of blood.
The point is, the man is a monster--as much as (or perhaps more-so than) the Pale Man. At least when Ofelia sees the Pale Man, she knows he's a dangerous creature. The Captain, however, takes the guise of humanity--and from Ofelia's point of view, there ought to be something more than a monster there. There really isn't. He's the Spanish equivalent of Hitler, and he seems to enjoy personally getting his hands dirty (versus the usual stink of association) with graphic acts of torture.
The ending, without giving anything away, is fittingly bitter-sweet. One is left wondering if what we see is real or a last fragmented imagining. Physical things accomplished and witnessed throughout the film, sometimes by more people than Ofelia (the root-baby screaming in the fire, the "doors" drawn in chalk when Ofelia is locked in her room), lead to the conclusion that it isn't all in her head. So maybe we're meant to think that there is something to the fairy tale.
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