Al Held (1928-2005) — Genesis II [acrylic on canvas, 2001-2003]

Al Held, Black Angel, 1964

Al Held

Al Held (American, 1928-2005), 74-39, 1974. Graphite on paper, 52 x 63 cm.

Al Held

Al Held, Maltese Cross, (acrylic on canvas), 1964 [MoMA, New York, NY. © Al Held Foundation, Boiceville, NY / ARS, New York, NY]

Al Held - B Series No. 7

Al Held (American, 1928-2005), Siena III, 1992. Acrylic on linen, 243.84 × 365.76 cm

Dead Blogging 'Fabricating Modernism' at the Currier Museum

Well the Missus and I trundled up to the Granite State over the weekend to check out the newly installed exhibits at Manchester’s Currier Museum of Art and say, they were swell. We started at Fabricating Modernism: Prints from the School of Paris (through January 7), which features artworks that “constitute a small portion of an extensive collection of prints committed to the Currier Museum of…

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Al Held - B Series No. 7

Al Held

Al Held (1928-2005) — Padua II  [acrylic on canvas, 1981]

Jason, storming into the Batcave: BRUCE! Get your demon.

Bruce, not looking up: Damain, let go of Jason. It's past your bed time.

Damian, clinging to Jason's torso: Not until he says it.

Bruce: Jason, say it.

Dick: What does he want you to say?

Damian: Todd is the only one who refuses to wish me a goodnight. I deserve to be Good Night'ed

Al Held

See Through III

2001

Al Held (American, 1928-2005), NN7, 1981. Pencil on paper, 19 1/2 x 27 1/2 in.

This is a snippet that might someday make it into my fic.

“He’s the least dangerous one.” Jason snorted at Ra’s Al Ghul’s words. “He’s the civilian in a family of Bats.” Jason let out a short laugh, clamping his mouth shut as soon as he heard his voice. He was clearly struggling to hold in his laughter, but no one could deduce why. “By taking all of you first we have taken away his support, making it easy to deal with him.”

Anyone who knew Ra’s Al Ghul knew that he’d just told them that he’d captured the heroes and then ordered the death of a person they’d left behind. By the destroyed look on all but one of the heroes faces, this person would be dearly missed.

Jason tried to keep from laughing, he really did, but the combined looks of horror on his family’s faces and the smugness coming from a man who was so very wrong proved to be too much. He burst into laughter so hard that one might think he’d been hit with Joker’s Gas. The room’s occupants looked at him with varying levels of confusion, concern, and disbelief.

When his laughter didn’t dissipate for a long time, Ra’s became angry. “What do you find so funny? You’ve just been informed that your beloved will be killed, and you find that funny?” His tone was biting even in his clear confusion.

Abruptly, Jason stoped laughing. The change was so sudden that it was unnerving. Several people, captive or otherwise jolted with the jarring shift in attitude as all amusement had left Jason’s face.

“I don’t find it funny.” Jason leaned forward as much as the chains binding him would allow, locking eyes with Ra’s, his face deadly serious. “I find it fucking hilarious.” Jason waited until Ra’s opened his mouth to continue as everyone else watched in stunned silence. “You think he’s the normal one, the civilian in a group of heroes. You think he’s not very dangerous if dangerous at all. You think your assassins can do anything to him. You think he needs us for support. You think you’ll be able to kill him. You think you are safe. You think he’ll never be able to find you. You think you’ve won.” Jason’s voice was soft and quiet yet piercing. He leaned back, expression blank. “As for me? Of course I don’t find it funny. The sheer amount of things your wrong about it hilarious all on its own, without any context. I can’t fucking wait to see the look on your face when you find out just how wrong you are. You’ve fucked around, now it’s time to find out. Your brilliant fucking strategy is an absolute shit show because of misinformation. If I were you, I’d start praying, hoping that some god is willing to further piss off the one you call a civilian by protecting your sorry ass to the best of their ability. It might buy you an extra minute to exist.”

There was a massive thud from down the hall, coming from an impact that struck the whole structure. Jason tilted his head down, grin sharp and inhuman and eyes flashing green.

From down the hall was clearly heard, “Cucumber on a stick! I overshot!”

The other captives tensed, that was Danny! What was he doing here? How was he here?

The assassins in the room tensed. That voice belonged to the civilian lover Red Hood was just ranting about. How was he here? How was he still alive?

Ra’s felt something odd swell in his chest, tightening his muscles and making his heart race. He knew it was a civilian on the other side of the door, he knew it. There was nothing special about Danny Nightingale except that he’d changed his name from Daniel Fenton. Then why, why, did Ra’s suddenly feel like prey that had wandered into the path of a predator?