How do i find the motivation to practice art? I have so many shitposts that’ll never come to fruition because my skills plateaued ):

No one else is going to draw my ideas and I'm too broke to pay someone else to do it for me. For better or worse, I seem to approach a lot of things from a "gotta do everything myself around here" angle haha

Honestly—and I won't lie to you—doing art studies is a real pain in the ass, I hate doing them. I never do them unless I've got major art block, and even then I still hate doing them, but it's like taking medicine and I know doing them will make me better. Every art teacher I've ever had's grilled me about this, "solradguy, you need to do 15 studies before the end of the week to get a full grade this quarter." Blah blah blah.

I guess for some people doing studies could be fun, not having to think about pose or composition, whatever, just putting lines down on paper and focus on your reference. One time, when I was still in college, I had to do a certain amount of studies in charcoal so I booted up Red Dead Redemption and drew landscapes or objects from it that I kinda liked. It was enough. I told my professor it was from my grandma's farm hehe

Art memes can be a good way to practice too, especially those ones about drawing in different styles or drawing a character in different outfits. They combine fun with tricking you into drawing things you might not normally draw. Emulating different art styles is the only art study method that doesn't make me want to fall asleep. Don't forget they're just art games though, and especially don't forget:

👉If You Already Feel Burnt Out Don't Feel Compelled To Complete Every Art Meme You Start👈

As you get better at art, you start noticing improvements less and less because they become more subtle. When you're really new to art, figuring out stuff like basic anatomy or shading is REALLY obvious because they're foundational parts of art. Hang on to your really old stuff and look at it every now and then and I guarantee you'll have improved way more than you thought you had.

I get the impression you've probably been at art for a while now, and I don't want to come across as patronizing, but sometimes refreshing the basics can help overcome a plateau too. Drawabox is usually what I recommend to people just getting into art, I really like their approach. Here's a link to their introduction lesson: drawabox.com/lesson/0 And here's one that skips to the actual art stuff: drawabox.com/lesson/1

While it's probably beneficial to actually do the exercises in the lessons, just skimming through reading them can be good too.

Something I've noticed a lot of my artists friends (and artists online) do is try to make every single drawing a finished piece, and I'm like "damn, no wonder art feels like such a chore." My sketchbook is 99% scribbles done in pen:

I use Pentel RSVP fine point ballpoint pens so if I make a mistake I'm forced to deal with it. Doing these rough sketches before starting a bigger piece is something I recommend with my entire heart. Just get a pack of shitty $0.99 pens and doodle like it's high school math class. I like the cheap pens because you can get faint lines drawing lightly and can coax them into darker lines with a bit more pressure (and if you lose/break one it's no big deal).

The best way to get better at art is to keep putting lines on paper. Even if it's just silly pen doodles, you're still improving coordination/pen control, improving construction of basic shapes, exploring concepts, and thinking about art, which will lead to more new ideas and further inspiration.

Sorry this is long and meandering haha Hopefully something here helps at least a tiny bit.

Thoughts on everyone in the realms?

"Short Answer; I made a chart. Not a well drawn chart, mind you, but a chart. Sometimes you don't wanna put effort into drawing 50 something faces"

"Long answer, uh....well lemme go down the list"

Claudette: My Starflower~!! She's so sweet and kind and amazing in trials and every time I see her I swoon a little- I love her so much~ Dwight: He's cute- And he's a good leader, despite his nervous personality, he knows how to bring a group together. Final guy potential. Ash: ....Don't...Tell him I said this? But uh....Evil Dead was one of my biggest comfort series, the thing that got me through losing both my parents....the thing that helped me transition, pick my name, and fueled my FX hobby. And I'm still attached, even realizing he's a real person and all- But...it's weird to just, be upfront with something like that, so I'm just...burying it as best as I can. David: He's a little rough around the edges but he’s good to have in a trial, plus when you can get past the walls, he’s nice to talk to. Kate: Her music by the campfire is calming and she’s such a sweetheart. If we were in a better situation I’d love to learn Guitar from her, but, it’s hard when you’re a moment away from a trial at any given time. Amalthea (@askthewidowstars OC): She judged my entire vibe but jokes on her I’m the one who snagged a cutie for life- Meg: If I had a dollar for every time she left me for dead I would have enough money to paint the entire campfire in solid gold. The only time we’ve ever properly talked was about SAW traps and 90% of it was her admitting she could beat every single trap because she was ‘built different’  Jeff: He’s a sweetheart and really nice to be around. Sometimes when we’re by the campfire in our downtimes I’ll let him draw on my arm. it kinda makes me want a tattoo, honestly. If we ever get out of here, I might get one. Steve: Bros!! We kinda make up team ‘Altruistic Himbo’, Plus the ‘Babysitter/Brother’ Vibes mesh really well. I kinda wanna re-style his hair though, mostly because it looks fluffy, and nice to play with.  Quentin: Bros!! We’re gonna make matching T-Shirts about committing Arson on Freddy in particular. He’s fun to hang around in our downtime, and I hope there’s a chance he can get some actual rest, even in here. He deserves it. Adam: If Dwight wasn’t the leader I feel like he’d take over the Reigns. I feel like he’s the calm type that doesn’t handle energetic types well though. Which, y’know, makes things hard.  Nea: Anytime I see her she’s either sneaking around the map and watching everyone get killed, or doing something stupid to get herself killed. I’d get grey hair if We were actually friends.  Feng: Gamer bros- I got to find out we actually played a lotta the same stuff before we were taken by the Entity. We get a chance to nerd out in between trials- Laurie: Best Final Girl hands down. I kinda hope she can teach me Decisive Strike one day- I feel like its also just a little awkward since again, still a fan of Myers Nancy: She doesn’t agree that Demo’s a good boy, which makes sense, but we but heads over it. Also I’m pretty sure she wants me dead for touching the bones around the map one too many times. They’re just too tempting.... Jake: He’s pretty quiet, but he’s helpful in trials. I heard he’s been to a convention a few times, but I don’t think he’s actually into it as much as I thought...Which kinda sucks. I’d love more cosplay buddies y’know? Yui: Kinda makes me want a motorbike. We don’t talk but she seems really cool. A little too cool to me around if that makes sense.  Yun-Jin: She benefits off of throwing everyone else under the bus. And 90% of the time she will throw everyone under the bus. Even if she needs actual help to escape the trial.  Cheryl: Cheryylll!!  She’s really cool and honestly would add her to the ‘Can kill god if she was not nerfed’ Squad. Especially since y’know, she has- I bet if we got enough of the kids together we could just beat the Entity’s ass. I know she could.  Tapp: Always been a fan of Tapp before I was taken, although I feel like he’d wanna arrest me if we weren’t in the Entity’s Realm. I might be a little too excited for my own good about Kramer’s work. I don’t think he’d believe the fact its a movie either.  Ace: He’s kinda like the Uncle of the group around the campfire, but, coming into trials, He’s still for saving his own skin- You can also only stand dad jokes for so long. Especially in an eternity like this.  Leon: He’s cool!!! I got so excited first realizing He and Jill were here, and I wanna get a chance to talk to him about everything that went down, but Haven’t got the chance. He’s nice inside of Trials though, usually doesn’t leave anyone behind. Not a fan of getting blinded though.  Jill: She knows how to lead the trials well, and I look up to her a lot. She’s always been such a badass!!  Bill: If Bill gets his hands on a weapon the entire Realm would be fucked. Badass as hell and Kinda scary. Another one on the list of ‘Entity needed to Nerf’ Felix: You’d think a Childless Father and a Fatherless son would be able to bond a bit more, but, I think we each kinda get the same vibe of homesickness from one another. He’s kind though, and it’s neat to see his work whenever we’re by the campfire.  Elodie: She’s better at helping out than most of the others, but she’s still in a survival of the fittest mindset. I loved hearing about her studies from before she was taken though. I feel like if we had more time we could dig deeper into this whole world and what its about. But we don’t get that- Zarina: We just don’t really click as much, honestly. I’d love to get to know her better but I think she’s more into digging into the killers and what she can find out about this place. Which y’know, could be better done with a team. Sage (@askthewidowstars OC): HUSBAND!!! My husband. I love him to the Moon and back. He’s amazing and I miss him even when we’re five feet apart-  ...I need a hug now-  Amanda: Best girl hands down!! We vibed a lot in between Trials talking about her traps and old designs, she was impressed by my knowledge, and we hang out in Gideon sometimes!   Ghostface: He’s pretty cute- Also fun to be around, even if he’s kind of a dick when he’s actually at work, it’s better when you’re outside of a Trial. It’s also neat to see he’s not just two idiots in a halloween costume and his own person, as much as I love the Scream Series, too-  Leatherface: Bubba!!! Honestly I’d handle being chainsawed. Fuckin Love Bubba-  Huntress: I wanna learn how to throw hatchets but I know I never will. She’s kinda scary, but also I feel like if she could adopt some of the others in the Realms, she totally would.  Oni: The only times I’ve ever really seen him is just before my skull gets bashed in. All I really have associated to him is the splitting headache.  Twins: I’m gonna punt Victor into the sun. I haven’t been good around kids beforehand and this tiny gremlin motherfucker just makes it worse.  Pinhead: I was so excited to see him!! He’s one of the few that talks more often than not in a trial, and he’s always had this air of elegance about him which makes it so much cooler! I’d be tempted to grab the box to solve it, but, at the same time Dwight’s already been hunted. I just...want to see how it works, really. Maybe if I ask nicely? Nah, probably not.  Pyramid Head: He’s so fucking COOL!!! He’s always just been really fucking cool and I still get stars in my eyes. I wanna re-create his weapon one day.  Joey: Joey’s one of the chill killers to be around, probably my favorite amongst the legion. Also Cosplay gang?? Hello? Susie: She’s cute!! I like her vibes whenever there’s not violence involved. I wonder if she’d ever get into costume making, she has the artistic eye for it. I also wonder if she’d ever dye other people’s hair...I’d kinda want green tips one day- Frank: Still wanna throw a palette at him. He’s one of the more serious of the Legion, and usually the one you’d find with a Mori. Not as Serious as Julie but only because he has the cocky god complex to go with it.  Julie:  She’s definitely the most serious out of the Legion. There’s no real rest whenever we’re in a trial against her. Scary as hell and less of a bastard than the other three.  Hillbilly: I know he deserved a lot better than this, especially after hearing more about him. I...Haven’t gotten to see much than the end of his chainsaw though.  Blight: This dude’s singlehandedly bringing back my fear of needles and I thought I lost that with HRT- Also like, dude spits up orange fuckin everywhere.  Michael: My Mans!! I always get a little excited knowing we’re up against him. It’s habit- It’s kinda weird to see him easily affected by like, palettes or flashlights though.  Spirit: She seems like she could be nice when there’s some downtime. I’m also one of the few that can understand her well enough, which probably makes things easier. I found out she’s basically my age when I survived a trial by myself. I’d hope to hang out more sometime. Nemesis: God he’s so fucking tall. Kinda surprised it was Nemesis out of everyone that could’ve been brought, and also, kinda terrified? Still am kinda terrified. I’m surprised he hasn’t just torn up an entire map yet. His zombie minions are also annoying. Wraith: All this motherfucker does is roll up to pull me off Gens and Exist as a problem. I don’t see much of him outside of a Trial. Trapper: Motherfucker Incarnate. If the Entity lets us throw hands I’m fighting him first.  Freddy: ....Gross. I liked the Nightmare on Elm Street series a lot, but...Freddy as a person? Ew. Especially this iteration.  Demogorgon: Demopuppy!! He’s a good boy and he deserves to get treats. Even if the Treats are flesh....I wonder if he likes candy though. Trickster: Pretty!! He also Gives me DIO vibes because of the Jacket and the Knife throwing...Imagine if a killer could stop time...that’d be terrifying. Deathslinger: I wanna sit down and look at his gun more but I also feel like if I ask I’d just get shot on sight. Intimidating as hell but also cool. Mary: ....Still on the very complicated ‘Ex Girlfriend that murdered me’ State. It’s hard to avoid her though. Especially since she wants to get back together since we’re stuck here. Nurse: She does not help my fear of Hospitals, honestly. While she’s easy to go up against, it’s still eugh. Plague: I really, really hate her power. The Sickness and the Vomit is just- Eughhhhh- It just hits every bad sensory issue at once.  Clown: ...I get killers are Killers and aren’t supposed to be good people but also like....Disgusting. Please Remove from the Realm. He’s just- ...Ew.  Doctor: NOPE. NO. NEVER. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO.

Again, been reading a lot recently, and here's some recent reads and my thoughts. (All very spoiler-free)

Johannes Cabal: The Necromancer by Jonathan L. Howard

I'd heard about this series for a while, but had always kept putting off reading it, and finally I was in the mood for some comedic (yet dark) shenanigans--and a villain protagonist as charming as Johannes Cabal really hit me just right. I really enjoyed the first of this series and the introduction to this 1920's-ish universe similar-yet-different to our own that Howard's created. His writing is crisp and clever--and Johannes is a villain protagonist worth cheering for. He's duplicitous, arrogant, and cold, yet sharp-witted and competent enough to be engaging, and even though he's amoral (driven predominately with an "ends do justify the means" mentality) there are glimmers of a conscious buried in there.

The basic gist of the first book is that Johannes Cabal is a necromancer dead-set (ba-dum-sh) on thwarting the biggest plague affecting mankind: Death. As such, he's willing to go to extreme lengths to hone and perfect his necromantic abilities. In the pursuit of this knowledge, Cabal sold his soul to Satan, but he comes to realize he actually needs his soul for his necromancy to work more properly (apparently without a soul it gets very unpredictable). In order to win his soul back, he strikes a wager with Satan: he will accumulate 100 souls for Satan in return for his own. Satan, ever the fair player (not), gifts Cabal with an infernal carnival to help Cabal reach his goal within the year. Shenanigans ensue.

While I read some books in-between this one and the next in the series, I'll write about the other here--

Johannes Cabal: The Detective by Jonathan L. Howard

So clearly I enjoyed the first installment enough to keep going, and I am glad, because I enjoyed the second one even more than the first. It feels like Howard got more comfortable with the characters and world than before, and in this one he expands his universe with some made-up countries that are similar-to-yet-different than countries on our Earth. In this one, Cabal does less fantastic tricks, as he dons the role of investigator (there's been a murder--on an airship!), but the plot was very fun. I will say this is one of the first books in a long while to genuinely make my world-weary ass laugh out loud in public. Howard truly does know how to turn a phrase and comes off with some great witticisms.

Guns of the Dawn by Adrian Tchaikovsky

Tchaikovsky has been on my radar for a while because I have had Children of Time on my reading list for what feels like an age (and I still haven't gotten around to reading it, but I will soon). To prime myself, I looked up other works by Tchaikovsky. This was around the time I was look for good "stand-alone" Adult Fantasy novels as well, so the two linked up and I had this on my TBR for a while and got around to finally cracking it open.

I really loved this book. If I could describe it in any way, it would be sort of like Pride & Prejudice if Elizabeth Bennet got drafted into a war. Seriously. That's how it reads--and Tchaikovsky made the allusions to Austen's work very clear. The setting is very English-inspired, and the time period mimics Napoleonic times. Definitely the first "Flintlock Fantasy" I've had the pleasure of reading.

The themes of the book are about the caustic nature of nationalism, the blurring of truth during war, and what is true patriotism in the face of falsehood and horror. Definitely my kind of questions--and I love watching characters thrown into completely unfamiliar environments. A genteel woman (Emily Marshwic) being tossed headfirst into grisly, mosquito-infested swamps armed with a musket? It's a fascinating journey she undergoes.

Plus the novel featured a romantic subplot that hits my enemies-to-lovers buttons hard. (It's not at all like one of those tired YA enemies-to-lovers stories, but something more grown-up and messy, which I approve of, because I love drama.) But this is more of a personal note. It's definitely not going to be for everyone.

Retribution Falls (Tales of the Ketty Jay #1) by Chris Wooding

After Johannes Cabal, I got into the mood for some steampunk, and I hadn't actually read much in the way of steampunk, so I looked up some recs and the Tales of the Ketty Jay series seemed to appear on a lot of lists for this kinda thing. The basic gist of this one is... imagine steampunk Firefly. That kinda gives you the whole vibe and feel. It's about a crew of disparate and colorful characters all running from something who meet on the ship the Ketty Jay and have to learn to work together to survive.

Overall, it was a fast-paced read (I read this 400 page sucker in a single day--while doing other stuff) and Wooding knows how to write action and interesting character interactions. The world had some glimmers of brilliance (the wizard analogs in their world--daemonist--were the most intriguing part), but otherwise it was very typical steampunk. I had no real quibbles with any of that (aside from the fact some of it read as very cliche and Wooding's inspirations seemed a little obvious--Fullmetal Alchemist and Firefly being the two big ones that kept hammering me over the head), but my main complaint was with the writing and treatment of female characters. First, there is only one main female character in the Ketty Jay's crew--Jez. I had no real issues with Jez's character or writing (in fact she's refreshing in some ways), but she's completely isolated from any other female characters (and is also the only crew member who isn't really allowed to be a complete screw up--she's somewhat sanitized, which, I guess the heroic women characters aren't allowed to be fuck ups like the men?). Second, the other predominate female characters, of whom there are only three, are mute/dehumanized (Bess), characterized as stupid and unhinged (Amalicia), and have rape-as-a-backstory-written-TERRIBLY (Trinica). All that said, as much as it was cringe, this was written in 2009, and I am sure Wooding has had some growth as a writer since then.

I liked this one enough to decide to check out the next in the series (even knowing the writing for the female characters leaves much to be desired).

Black Sun by Rebecca Roanhorse

A Fantasy taking place in an Americas-inspired world? Absolutely refreshing (and more please). The main gist of this one is that a cult sets out to resurrect a dead god (seriously that's the main plot crux) while political machinations are going on in the central city of this country where the resurrection is going to take place. As the novel progresses, it's like a countdown clock to game time. There's four POV characters we follow: Xiala (a Teek sea captain who is kind of an outcast from her native people and has a love for beautiful people), Serapio (the man who has been groomed since birth to be the vessel for the resurrected god, part of this process has included blinding him), Naranpa (the Sun Priest of the capital city who is trying to garner back control the priesthood has lost), and Okoa (who really doesn't even appear until way later into the book; he's been separated from his family to train to be a warrior). For the most part, I was primarily engaged (re: 90% engaged) with Xiala and Serapio's story. They were the most interesting characters, and the journey of them on the sea trying to get to the city before the ceremony was exciting and emotional. The political dealings in Naranpa's segments kind of bogged down the action--and I didn't feel anything for that. Overall though, definitely a thrilling read with a beautifully constructed world. If I had one big criticism, it's that it ended incredibly abruptly without any resolution. I knew going in this was a part of a greater whole, but I still felt the ends could've been knotted a little tighter. I'm left dangling! But I'll be sure to pick up the next one (if anything just to find out what happens to Xiala and Serapio).

Vicious by V.E. Schwab

As an unapologetic villainfucker, I had to read this one, right? It's about not just one, but two villains! How could I lose? And they're in an intense rivalry? Revenge? Betrayal? Superpowers? Gah! Be still my heart!

I'll say I enjoyed this book (fun characters, solid writing), but I didn't love it as much as I thought I would (I wish I could love yooouuuu!). Definitely worth a recommendation to anyone who loves villains and fast-paced narratives, but... there were a few things that tarnished what could've been sparkling. The biggest for me was the jumping around in the first half. For a length of time, the novel leaps between three different points of time, sometimes 2-3 pages at a time, and it was jarring (not confusing, mind you, but it was a jolt each time). I get it was done to create an air of mystique and intrigue, but it felt like I was getting dragged around by the ear. Along with this, the plot just seemed... very convenient? As various moments kept happening, it all felt too tidy and paint-by-numbers. The characters were certainly messy and fun (and I love messy and fun), but the action itself seemed to glide on well-oiled rails with no hiccups. This did lead to the magnetic pacing of the book (which I also read in a day), but it didn't do the drama any favors. Never once did it feel like the characters were caught with their pants down--and I think that's part of the point, but it kind of dampened the tension.

I liked it enough I am definitely going to check out the sequel Vengeful though. If anything I am reading for Sydney, Mitch, and Victor. I gotta know what happens to them!

--

Right now I am reading some fluffy fluff to cleanse my palette because I've been reading so much moodiness. I'm mid-way through the light and breezy Half a Soul by Olivia Atwater (and it's super cute so far) and then I am finally going to crack open Andy Weir's The Martian (because I have put off reading it for far too long).

Leonardo - A Radical Suggestion

1  :   INTRODUCTION

For those of us who operate in the Arts and not the Sciences, what is the difference, I wonder, between a hypothesis and a thesis? If both are based on research, is it mostly a degree of conviction? What begins as one can turn into the other. For my part, as I will set out in this essay, what began as an inkling regarding certain pictures ‘by Leonardo’ is now a genuine conviction which has become nailed to a Lutheran door, as it were, as an article of faith. There is something risky about it, it is provocative, radical in fact and will doubtless be considered heretical by those with a settled opposing view. My proposal is this: I believe that four paintings which currently bear the ‘Leonardo’ attribution are not by Leonardo, but the works of two other artists: three by Ambrogio de Predis and a fourth by an unknown hand. I will demonstrate how, using methods of connoisseurship, it is possible to discern the techniques of these other artists in the paintings whilst also offering comparisons to genuine works by Leonardo. I will be looking at the following paintings (left to right): The Virgin of the Rocks (National Gallery London), Ginevra de Benci (National Gallery Washington), Portrait of a Musician (Ambrosiana, Milan) and Lady with the Ermine (presently at Wawel Museum Krakow)

Opinions such as these are likely to provoke outrage quickly turning to contemptuous dismissal, especially among the curators of the galleries concerned. The National Gallery in London, for example, despite already owning the genuine Leonardo Cartoon of the Virgin and Child with St Anne – a drawing, albeit a large one – has placed a great deal of significance in its claim to owning an important painting by the same. Similarly, the National Gallery in Washington has accepted its Ginevra de’ Benci as authentic Leonardo for so long, it has appeared in so many books on him and been seen as his by so many gallery visitors, that any suggestion to the contrary is likely to be dismissed as weird or ridiculous. The portrait of the Lady with the Ermine at Krakow is so confidently ascribed to Leonardo that she even became the poster-girl for the 2011 Leonardo exhibition in London.

In view of this expected hostility I feel it prudent to revert to the more tentative position of having a hypothesis or hunch, a voice that says ‘Suppose that this is the case, what are the arguments for it, what is the visual evidence?’ Hence the title of this Study: a supposition or ‘radical suggestion’.

Before looking in detail at pictures and drawings it is helpful to reconsider what kind of a man Leonardo was. What impression do we gain from all his drawings and notebooks, the records of his thinking? Surely it is of a person of immense curiosity. Mentally he was always moving on, investigating the forms and mechanisms of life, inventing solutions to problems, addicted to exploring the variety, complexity and sheer beauty of anything he encountered. There was, however, a synthetic aspect to his imagination as well as the analytic one, and every now and again he turned to painting and through it gave expression to that poetic rather than scientific side of his nature. This switch occurred at intervals in a life otherwise devoted to description, analysis and problem-solving. Hardly a day passed, one imagines, without him drawing and making notes, but months, even years may have passed in which he was not painting, though a painting awaited his return to it. Even without the subtractions I would make, what has survived of his painted oeuvre is small relative to that of any other major artist one can think of. Painting was not a constant preoccupation of his life, though he took its practice seriously and was interested in its status vis-a-vis other arts.

I :  LONDON  AND  PARIS

The Virgin among the Rocks - National Gallery London

Given all this, what are we to make of the proposition that Leonardo made a large-scale copy of one of his own works? How likely is it that such a restless mind would allow itself to be detained for as long as it would take to paint a huge version of a composition which he had earlier completed and from which he had mentally moved on? Even if some circumstance had forced this on him, would he not have taken the opportunity to make revisions of the composition far more radical than we see? Beethoven at the piano was inspired and inventive: when he took his hands off the keyboard and a lady exclaimed that she would never hear such a thing again, he replied, so the story goes, ‘oh yes you can, madam’ and started off again, yet not repeating himself but inventing along the way because he could not help doing so. The same is surely true of Leonardo, witness the profusion of compositional ideas scattered through his drawings.

The Virgin among the Rocks - Musée du Louvre Paris

The Louvre Virgin among the Rocks is authentic Leonardo, I have no doubt. The forms of the figures, the shape of their faces, the drawing-related observation of plants and rocks, the suggestiveness of the cavernous environment, and the warmth of the palette, are all entirely characteristic of him.

The Virgin among the Rocks - London (left) and Paris (right)

It is the status of the London version that one has to question. The composition is broadly the same, but the colour scheme is colder and bluer, the handling of paint heavier and more prosaic, the atmosphere sepulchrally chilly.

Detail of the Virgin’s head in both paintings

One of the differences between the Paris and London pictures is the lighting which affects, of course, the colouring. In Paris we have a light reminiscent of evening, the western sun to our left; faces, hands and naked bodies glow with a golden warmth. The arm of the infant Saint John, pressing for balance  on a ledge of rock, is like an arm in Caravaggio, lit dramatically with warm shadow. Despite the cold, damp, uncomfortable setting, there is the residual warmth of a day, embers of a fire that the angel’s red cloak under the greenish-grey mantle keeps alive. In London we have a lighting closer to moonlight, colder, whiter and bluer; the faces and bodies are illuminated more emphatically but less subtly. This relative heaviness and simplification does not suggest Leonardo but is characteristic of Ambrogio.

Colder blues in London, warmer lights cast in Paris

The circuitry - like a cat’s cradle - of hand gestures and eye focus that depends, in the Paris picture, on the Virgin’s left hand being poised above the angel’s pointing one, is broken in London by the latter’s omission; it is earthed instead by the long diagonal of the Christ-child’s cross. Something important is being left out and the resulting void is a central darkness that engulfs the raised hand of Saint John. Similarly, the beautiful iris and fern at lower left in Paris are replaced by less complicated flora not based, as Leonardo’s are, on drawn observation.

Top row - simplified plants featured in London painting; Centre - Leonardo’s studies of plants; Either side - more accurately observed plants featured in Paris painting

In London the rocks seem heavier and more depressive on the figures because they continue to the top and omit the arching of rock against sky which in Paris reinforces the Virgin’s ‘misericordia’ gesture as she puts her right arm round the head of her Son. The highlight in the gold mantle under her blue robe has a more complicated and spirited calligraphy in Paris and is omitted altogether where it appears in the Paris angel’s shoulder-wrap.

Leonardo’s eye for capturing the highlights and shadows of draped fabrics, clockwise from top left: Three drapery studies; Angel’s robe in Paris ‘Rocks’; Virgin’s hem in Paris ‘Rocks’; Madonna of the Carnation (Alte Pinakothek); detail from Mona Lisa (Musée du Louvre)

A theme in these Studies, and one of the insights that connoisseurship constantly throws up, is that how an artist draws will often if not always be reflected in how that artist paints; pencil and brush are used in similar ways. If, as I suggested earlier, Leonardo drew every day, it is very likely that when he painted, especially when he used a fine brush for more detailed final delineations, of plant stems or the highlights on sleeve-folds for example, we will see a resemblance between his mark-making with a brush and his mark-making with pen or pencil, chalk or silverpoint. And so it is, as these examples show.

Material details - fabric folds in Paris (left) and London (right) paintings

In the London version these final touches are absent because Ambrogio did not have Leonardo’s curiosity about natural forms, and his representations of them are inevitably more generalised and emblematic. Were I a supporter of the Leonardo attribution for the London picture, this omission would worry me greatly. Turn to drawings by Ambrogio, on the other hand, and one sees at once the coarser grain that is evident in the London Rocks.

Facial types in works by Ambrogio show wide eyes like those in London 'Rocks’

One begins to think that some of the challenges of making a replica of the Paris picture were just too demanding for the copyist, hence his omissions and the substitution of linear props like the cruciform staff, the haloes, and the vertical hemline of Mary’s robe. The major difference, however, remains the chromatic one: doing away with the angel’s red robe, combined with the loss of a quintessentially Leonardesque relationship between that red and the green, blue and yellow-gold in Paris, seems the surest sign of all that we are not looking at Leonardo’s work in London but at that of an artist who is happiest working with a palette of cold blues and browns.

2 :   WASHINGTON

Cold blues and browns: that is what we find, among other signs, in the Ginevra de’ Benci at Washington (above) - the brown in the bodice, the blue-brown landscape beyond a sallow moon-face. particularly noticeable in that face are the high temple above eyes far apart, and cheekbones even farther apart with shadow under them level with nostrils, making mouth and chin seem disproportionately small. This is not a Leonardo construction of a face, but if one turns back to the London Virgin among the Rocks, it is there in the angel’s  face and the Christchild’s though to a less exaggerated degree.

Noticeable, too, are the heavy upper and lower lids to rather long eyes. Here are some drawings, plausibly by Ambrogio de Predis, which reinforce these features as typical of his style.

Recurrent in them is a certain heaviness, an overemphatic modelling and lighting, the strange eyes, the long, broad nose, and a scale that seems to enlarge as one ascends from the chin.

There is a further feature to remark on in the Ginevra and that is the treatment of hair strands and hair curls: they look metallic, as if made from fine picture wire, and the curls are tightly coiled as we see in several drawings. This is Leonardesque in general - it reminds one of his deluge drawings and water studies - but Leonardo the painter does not apply the curling tongs in such a steely manner, there is more poetic sfumato blending the ringlets into shadow, exposing here, losing there. They should not assume more importance than the facial features.

Ginevra de Benci’s tight curls as compared with those from works by Ambrogio - there is a further connection between the painting (bottom left) of St John the Baptist and the inscription on the reverse of Ginevra’s portrait

If I seem to denigrate Ambrogio de Predis vis-a-vis Leonardo it is because the distinction to be made is not just of style but of quality. His way of painting, as of drawing, is heavier, colder, cruder and far less poetically evocative. To make a version of a Leonardo on the scale of the London Virgin among the Rocks is undoubtedly impressive and Ambrogio is a very accomplished artist, but when attribution is at stake it should be recognised, after due consideration and comparison, that his painting in London is nothing like as good as the Paris original. On every measure the Louvre picture is superior. As for the Ginevra, just put it beside La Belle Ferroniere or Mona Lisa, (below) and see how it fails on both connoisseurship counts, likeness and quality.

3   :MILAN

There is another ‘Leonardo’ that fits well with these attributions, and that is the unfinished Portrait of a Musician at the Ambrosiana in Milan (above), a painting which Giovanni Morelli long ago assigned to Ambrogio, I think correctly. We are presented here with a memorable face and a convincing portrait of an individual, but once again the exaggerated lighting, the shape of the eyes and lids, the mouth, the wire-like curls and the low-slung cheekbone that is level with the nostril and far from the eye, betray, when taken together, the style of Ambrogio, not Leonardo.

The Portrait of a Musician and three works by Ambrogio all displaying similarly wide eyes and facial types - Head of Francesco Melzi; Portrait of a Young Man; Head of Bacchus

It is a style that produces an impression of forceful character, but just because it errs on the side of being over-determined it lacks the subtler sfumato, the more reticent but mysterious presence that is the ‘poesia’ of Leonardo. This is more assertively a portrait, but Leonardo, who was no more interested than Michelangelo was in the individual - and therefore not at heart a portraitist at all -aspires to a more universal and depersonalised image, the sublimated type of Mona Lisa. The contrast between the two men is admittedly disguised somewhat by the assimilation to Leonardo’s manner - Ambrogio was, after all, his close associate and admirer and his work is more nearly Leonardesque than most of the master’s followers - but the differences are there to be discerned and if we do not discern them I fear that our conception of Leonardo the painter will remain blurred by inconsistencies that distort our proper understanding of his development. He did develop, but credibly, not by suddenly adopting a new palette or a new way of constructing a face.

4 :  KRAKOW

The focus of this Study being on what is, and is not, by Leonardo, I can leave Ambrogio now and turn to a work not by him but not, I believe, by Leonardo either, accepted though it usually is as an important example of his art: the Lady with the Ermine portrait of Cecilia Gallerani at Krakow. Whatever one’s theory about its authorship, few would disagree that it is a work of high quality, beauty and sophistication, almost certainly from the best years of its maker.

With that tribute to the work I shall cut to the quick of the connoisseurship argument by setting it between three other items (clockwise from top right): a painted Portrait of a Lady from the Musée Jacquemard André in Paris, a very impressive portrait drawing of a Woman, from the Uffizi Gabinetto and a profile Portrait of a Woman from the Kress Collection at Washington.

The salient features linking them are the smooth Bronzino-ish modelling, the profiles, the flesh colour, the treatment of folds in sleeves, and the form of the long-fingered hands. That curious pose of Cecilia’s right hand with its long and separated digits is not to be found, I think, in genuine Leonardo, but we shall see that it recurs in this master’s work.

With these initial comparisons in mind one can go on to other drawings and paintings bearing similar characteristics. The very soft muzzy shading within fine linear contours and hairline comes again in a drawing from the Pembroke collection at Wilton House; the woman’s profile repeats that of the Lady in the Kress painting.

Profile of a Woman - Wilton House

At Windsor, in the Leonardo corpus, are three studies of feet, one a child’s, that are clearly in the style of the drawing of the Lady in the Uffizi and the Pembroke drawing. A further drawing, from the Ambrosiana in Milan,  not only belongs with it in drawing style but also makes a link with the Krakow painting of Cecilia Gallerani.

One sees the fastidiously neat, centrally-parted coiffure, relatively slight eyebrows, long nose, similar mouth, pointed chin. Some of these items might even be of the same woman; however, it is similarity of type and style, not identity of sitter, that is relevant for attribution, and as a group these drawings and paintings already suggest a common style and a common authorship that is distinct from what we recognise as ‘Leonardo’, and distinct also from Ambrogio de Predis. An artistic personality begins to emerge that makes the attribution of the Krakow picture to Leonardo seem increasingly unsafe and improbable.

The improbability is only confirmed when one moves to a painting of the Virgin and Child with an Angel and Saint John at a museum in Budapest. Here is the Krakow hand; here the marmoreal smoothness and delicate blush to the cheek; here a deep wine-red under blue mantle (and over a black-striped white silk undergarment); here the brown colour (in Cecilia’s right forearm; the wooden border of the angel’s lute); here the precise coiffure, pointy chins, delicately defined finger and toe nails.

Painting of the Virgin and Child with St John shows near identical hand posture to Lady with the Ermine, as well as similarities to unattributed studies of a child’s head (Musée des Beaux Arts Caen) and an engraving of an Old Man (Metropolitan Museum New York)

Relevant to this work in Budapest is a drawing in the British Museum (below) where the Child’s hand raised in benediction is much the same, and the Virgin’s hands around Him similarly arthritic but almost claw-like. 

Enhanced close-up of the hand from the drawing showing a similarly “double-jointed” hand to that of the Lady with the Ermine

A much annotated drawing in the Uffizi, purporting to be of Beatrice d’Este, shows the Krakow Master’s refined line, but adding eyelashes which Cecilia Gallerani lacks. There are similarities between this Uffizi drawing and a supposed self-portrait drawing of Melzi at Bayonne: the same smooth modelling and combed hairlines (below).

Mention should be made at this point of an earlier, very charming work, a reliquary from the Sanctuary at Crea which has a portrait on one side of the Marchese di Monferrato and on the other his wife, Anna d’Alencon.

The portrait of the Marchesa is particularly close to the Krakow portrait, not in date but in profile, shape of face and facial features, treatment of hair, black necklace, juxtaposition of brown and slate blue.

More paintings and drawings, some in pen and ink, could be introduced to flesh out the career of this artist and take it back to its beginnings or forwards, to the Sforza Altarpiece; but for present purposes enough, I hope, has been garnered to make the case that the picture, fine though it is, is not by Leonardo but by another artist working at or near the height of his powers.

5 :   CANON

Between the subtractions from the current Leonardo canon that I have proposed above and some additions to it that I would like to put forward for consideration, we can usefully mention what remains that is generally undisputed. With regard to early work there is room for dispute. I would argue, pace Vasari, against his having painted an angel in Verrocchio’s Baptism, on the ground that I see no difference between the two angels in the way they are painted, and that that way was Verrocchio’s way, as a drawing by him makes clear.

Verrocchio’s Baptism of the Christ and drawings of the Head of an Angel (Uffizi) and the Head of a Woman (Christchurch)

On another occasion I would at least cast doubt on Leonardo’s hand in the painting of the Virgin’s and angel’s heads in the Uffizi Annunciation while not denying that he contributed to other parts of both that picture and the Verrocchio Baptism. There is also an argument to be made about the authenticity of the much repainted Benois Madonna in the Hermitage.

The Benois Madonna (left, attributed to Leonardo) bears similarities in style with the Virgin from Verrocchio’s Annunciation (right)

Apart from numerous drawings, the London Cartoon among them, we are left with the five pictures in the Louvre (Madonna of the Rocks,Virgin and Child with Saint Anne, Mona Lisa, La Belle Ferroniere, and Saint John the Baptist);  the Madonna with the Carnation at Munich; the Last Supper fresco at Milan, the unfinished Adoration of the Kings in the Uffizi; and the unfinished Saint Jerome in the Vatican. What, if anything, can be added?

Leonardos at the Louvre

Leonardos around the world

5 :   ADDENDA

I have not seen, nor do I know the location of, this probably small painting - perhaps a fragment, perhaps of the head of the Virgin (below). It was once in a private collection in  Lugano, but is known to me only from a small but fortunately colour reproduction in an obscure catalogue of an exhibition of ‘Masterpieces of European art’ compiled by Amadore and Tony Porcella, at Tally Ho, Las Vegas, in 1963.

The book is a curious miscellany with some questionable attributions, but this one image has stuck in my mind and I remain as strangely confident now as I was when I first saw it that the original, if one knew where it was, would turn out to be a genuine early work by Leonardo, as the Porcellas claimed.

Place this image next to the renowned drawing at Turin of a woman’s head, and it is fairly easy to turn that head around a little and down a little to get the same or a very similar physiognomic type that is classic Leonardo. Place it against the Angel’s head in the Louvre Virgin among the Rocks and much the same match is achieved, with also, significantly, the same combination of red and green from a palette that is decidedly warm - the necessary warmth of an umber ground for anything to be by Leonardo.

Faces in drawings by Leonardo compared with Porcella image

Colours in both Porcella image and Louvre Virgin of the Rocks

My other proposal on the credit side is a painting at Wilton House near Salisbury, one of a number of extant pictures on the theme of Leda and the Swan, a subject known from his drawings to have occupied Leonardo’s attention. This Wilton Leda is ascribed to Cesare da Sesto.

Leda and the Swan attrib. Cesare da Sesto - Wilton House

When I saw this Leda in the National Gallery’s 2011 Leonardo exhibition I remarked to my companion ‘Isn’t this good enough to be Leonardo’s?’ and added, to myself, ‘but I suppose the experts know something we don’t’. Now, after further consideration - seeing how faithful all aspects of the picture are to the pictorial language and practice of Leonardo, and finding in the language and practice of Cesare da Sesto nothing that convinces me that he could mimic Leonardo’s so perfectly - I simply ask of those experts: if I am missing something on the visible surface of that picture that clearly demonstrates that it must be by Cesare da Sesto and cannot be by Leonardo, please provide an equally visual argument to explain that case. To my eye the head of Leda is nowhere near the characteristic female head in Cesare’s work, but is extremely close to well-known drawings by Leonardo.

Examples of Faces in works by Cesare da Sesto - details from Madonna and Child with the Lamb; Study of a Man’s Head; detail from Madonna and Child with Sts John and George

Studies for Leda and the Swan by Leonardo at Chatsworth (Top Left) and the Royal Collection at Windsor

The warm palette and all the background and foreground of the composition are likewise relatable to Leonardo and to studies by him of mountains, children and plants.

The children in the painting are reminiscent of sketches by Leonardo

Landscape details can also be compared to studies by Leonardo, like those at the Royal Collection

Of course artists make copies of work by other artists, but in doing so they cannot help unconsciously introducing traces of their own habitual styles of figuration, physiognomy and palette. We know that even an artist with a conscious desire to deceive people (who therefore studies what he copies very carefully) betrays these personal idiosyncrasies. The Wilton picture, I suggest, merits consideration as authentic Leonardo. It is a work of remarkable quality, better, surely, than anything Cesare da Sesto ever achieved, and I would be quite happy to see it slipped into the oeuvre of Leonardo pittore, somewhere, at a guess, before Mona Lisa, because of the less veiled and mysterious landscape. I would add that what could be an autograph study for, rather than after, the head of the Wilton Leda is a beautiful grisaille (11 by 8in) sold by Christie in New York on 7 Dec 1977.

6  :   CONCLUDING

I hope that this Study and its predecessors helps to demonstrate to anyone sceptical of the value of connoisseurship that, in common with any form of criticism, it is not a science but definitely a discipline, and one moreover that, properly practised, with plenty of close visual comparison can lead to a reappraisal, sometimes, as here, quite radical, of some of the leading lights in our pictorial heritage.The word ‘close’, however, is to be emphasised. There is no point in having a juxtaposition like this one (below) from a recent National Gallery exhibition catalogue, where the drawing is insufficiently similar to the detail in the painting and bears no resemblance to any drawing by Leonardo. Comparison must be accurate enough to advance an argument rather than spread confusion.

There is no lack of attention paid to Leonardo, but it is too often of a kind that produces claims of authenticity such as the Salvator Mundi of current fame, which connoisseurship, if applied, could show to be misplaced.

Alternatively, attention is of the kind that is not radical enough and tends to re-present the same items from one monograph or exhibition to the next, simply because it would look strange to omit them. The accumulated weight of past opinion confirms the rightful place of, say, the Ginevra de’ Benci in any presentation of Leonardo the artist. If it becomes unthinkable to leave her out, it becomes ever more eccentric to question her inclusion; so she is re-displayed or re-produced ‘on the nod’, with no questions asked.

There are, sad to say, vested interests at work here. The Ginevra, like so many famous images, belongs in, and to, a famous museum. Its curators, and curators everywhere, develop a quasi-proprietorial relationship with ‘their’ collections that is not so very different from that of private collectors. Naturally they do not want to risk asking, or inviting, questions that could undermine the prestigious status of a work in their care, lest doubts should lead to a less prestigious one. The reputation of connoisseurship itself has unfortunately been tainted by practitioners having these or other sorts of vested interest. Unattached to any institution I am powerless but lucky in this respect at least: being a private researcher I have no vested interest at all. Whether a picture is by Leonardo da Vinci or by Ambrogio de Predis is of no concern to me beyond my desire to ascribe it correctly, no matter who owns it or what its market value may be.

For all sorts of unquantifiable reasons I value Leonardo. I hope that the questions I raise here may lead to a more coherent, less inconsistent picture of his enduringly beautiful art.

This article is dedicated to @shaolinfantastic, whose compassion, bravery, cleverness, and soul-to-soul conversations inspire me every day.

Please note that this article was originally published on my old WordPress blog that has since been deleted. I wrote it before I knew anything about my own BPD (which makes my unwitting descriptions of emotional contagion and blurred ego boundary even more interesting). Most of all, I wrote it as an emotional release. 

“Intimacy requires courage because risk is inescapable. We cannot know at the outset how the relationship will affect us. Like a chemical mixture, if one of us is changed, both of us will be. Will we grow in self-actualization, or will it destroy us? The one thing we can be certain of is that if we let ourselves fully into the relationship for good or evil, we will not come out unaffected.”

Rollo May

This is the story of how I spent an exhilarating evening in the company of two Narcissists.

It's a perfect case study in power. And what adds an especially poignant twist to it all is that I was entirely unaware of Narcissistic Personality Disorder at the time, and therefore granted momentary reprieve from the distinct element of danger I was in.

I really need to take a moment to appreciate how spectacularly set up everything was. How magnificently intense and beautiful the memory endures. There’s even a sly brilliance to having our encounter in the midst of a concert crowd. As an HSP/Empath, for me that means sensory overload, the aftermath of draining exhaustion, and an overall diminished focus thanks to the collective energy of so many people, among other things. My own complacency awes me. I was the dictionary definition of intoxicated (no alcohol required) and I happen not to regret it one bit because the learning experience was valuable.

It’s a sweltering summer evening in June. The air sizzles with excitement and drips in anticipation for the performers. I can feel the energy swelling in my veins. I can’t sit still. The setting sun is dispersed by the metal scaffolding of the stage, glinting off the edges of the hard seats, spilling in between the people bustling behind me, and adding a halcyon glow to everything. I have to get up and work off the emotions blistering my insides.

I wander around the various food vendors, savouring the sizzle of french fries and barbecued meats. The price for water is outrageous but I buy a bottle anyway. Then I walk over to the merchandise table and buy a band shirt, proudly admiring it before placing it reverently in the tote bag slung over my shoulder. I return to my seat, which is not far from the front row.

I decide I can’t just sit there and wait because I know she's coming.

Excitement grips me as I make my way towards the stairs that lead to the other side of the amphitheater. The floor seems to dip and sag beneath my feet. And there, appearing just at the crest of the stairs, is my Narc. She catches sight of me and immediately breaks off the conversation with the older man beside her, yells my name, and hurtles into my arms.

I missed her. I missed her intensity. I missed her body pressed against mine just like this, suspended in a moment of bliss. I missed her touch, the thrill of being in her presence. I missed her voice and her mesmerizing eyes and the way she makes me feel. Her arms tighten around me, her fingers digging into my shoulder blades, her head resting against my chest, and it's like a shot of homecoming. I am accepting her; she is accepting me. The last time we had held each other like this, three long years ago, she’d given me a few simple words that stole my breath and kickstarted my heart into overdrive.

Let me love you.

I feel my love for her in between each beat of my heart. Pouring out. People shove past us and break their paths around us, while we’re still holding each other (I could have held her forever). I reluctantly pull away and gaze at her fondly. In her face, it looks like she’s been many places, with the lives to match. Her dark eyes are more pronounced by eyeliner, her lips accentuated by a light sheen of lipstick.  

She’s painted her nails crisply white, and I’m pleased to note that the colour suits her well. In fact, black and white is the palette for everything. Such as her silk black dress, with its hem hitting mid thigh. It’s a simple cut that emphasizes her in all the right places, but I like it a lot because it bares her growing collection of tattoos. At one point in the evening, I will touch the rose tattooed on her left shoulder blade; she will strip down the right strap of the dress to reveal a white bra with black stitching, stark against her soft, smooth skin, and below that are tattooed four meaningful words I trace delicately with my fingers.

As the evening wears on, I will join her for smoke breaks. We will talk until the cigarettes are whittled away, secure in our shared, private moments, and then we will return to our seats. I will I think that her mind is filled with dark corners and obsessions most people don't want to look into. I am not like most people.

Like, for example, the older man staring both of us down from his vantage point at the top of the stairs. I’ve referred to him before as my Narc’s Ex in a post about Intimate Partner Violence and will continue to use that label here.

I know who he is before he curtly gives me his name. It’s ordinary; billions of men have it. I look at him and I’m disappointed because I was expecting someone more impressive. In my opinion, he's not particularly attractive. He’s wearing a white checkered-style shirt and jeans. Glasses. Greying hair with faint jaw stubble to match. A wristwatch. He looks so plain it’s like a mockery of what plain is.

He does evoke a sense of passing interest because his features are unusual. His face, for example, reflects a paradox: he’s obviously himself with all the bad parts driven into the aged lines of his character, but what you see is smooth and ideal, touchable, although it’s covered with disdain, as if he doesn’t want fingers or loose lips too close to the merchandise. His eyes are stone; or just hollows, empty cups of bone. When he looks at me, briefly, not quite meeting my eyes, his brain is a stopped clock. I guess he’s the kind of person you’d claim to know well, and then, with a bitter wink, discover that there’s really not much to know.

Later, I will tell my Narc that he feels weird. That he creeps me out. That I can’t take him seriously because his manner is shifty and nervous and strangely detached and supremely bored. Keep in mind that my Narc has smeared her Ex to me for years, so all I know about him comes from her. Which is why I think he deserves to be beaten like a rabid dog. That justifies the acidic hate I feel.

“He's not what I expected.”

“He's different when we’re in private,” my Narc tells me quietly.

“Oh, I’m sure he is.”

“Everyone is.”

For now, while I’m busy judging someone based on their appearance, something I don’t like doing by the way, I catch my Narc observing me out of the corner of my eye. I’m polite. I’d suspected he would be coming, as my Narc had arranged transportation together and he seemed the most likely choice anyway. But he didn't know I was coming, as he admitted to me later in a haughty mutter, otherwise he would have bought an extra ticket.

Once we break our embrace, my Narc kicks off her heels and hands them over to her Ex without looking at him, then snatches a pair of black flip flops from him.

“Come sit with us in the front row!”

“But there's not enough seats.” I protest faintly.

“Maybe I could sit in your lap,” she purrs.

“As wonderful as that would be, you’d block my view.”

She gives me a sidelong glance and, once we’re seated, proceeds to deposit herself on her Ex’s lap. I look at them, an odd pair: a middle aged man and a beautiful, alluring young woman astride him. The way his hands grip her waist makes me clench my teeth. One moment longer and I'll be drawing comparisons to Lolita. It's an uncomfortable comparison, so I dismiss it from my mind and focus instead on the heightened buzz of excitement from the crowd around us.

I play myself out that evening in servility, light and dark, comic and tragic. I’m smug because I think I know everything, and that I know where I belong. The Ex still manages to muster up a facade of smugness because he’s at such a disadvantage that’s his only option. Or something. I want to take that self-important, sickly look off his face so I say:

“She’s told me so much about you.” 

Alarm crackles in his eyes. I relish it. He’s definitely on his guard now, wary of me, hunched over with knots of worry evident in his posture. That’s what I thought, you son of a bitch. I persist with my questions until my Narc interrupts his answer.

“I have to use the washroom.”

“Do you really?”  “Yes.”

I groan inwardly. The last thing I want is to be left alone with her Ex. We both sit in silence for a few moments. Seething in our respective perceptions, not daring to look at each other. I don’t want to be rude because I want to maintain my moral high ground. I paste a thin smile on my face and I ask him a bit more about his work, where he grew up. He tells me he really wants my Narc to move back in with him just as she’s returning. 

She looks at us both. There’s the slightest tilt to her head. Then she sits and languidly crosses her legs.

“Are you telling her about your suicide attempt?” she asks with an undercurrent of mockery in her tone, indicating the long, pale scar on his left forearm.

My eyes widen. He shoots her a quick look and stammers to me, “No, it's a skating accident.”

“Skating accident?”

“Yes. I used to play hockey, more than a decade ago.” He rubs his forearm absently. “A player's skate nearly sliced it clean off. I was lucky.”

I can't imagine him playing hockey.

“Get me another beer,” my Narc commands by way of a dismissal. She does this several times. He obeys, each time.

I’m thinking what an idiot he is, snickering along with my Narc. While he’s away, her and I speak in eager voices. We reminisce. We both agree how wonderful and exhilarating it is to be at this concert, together. When he’s back, she drops comments for my benefit, references only the two of us would understand. She sits fully facing me, turning her back to him. Scorning him. Showering me with attention and adoration. Her piercing gaze seems to sear my soul and I want just a little more, please. I can’t get enough of her.

She makes us feel like the most important people in the crowd. All of these other people, with their own special stories, are insignificant compared to us. Who do they think they are? They’re not like us. Of course they’re not. Sitting beside my Narc, I feel elevated. The dome above us is starred like our spirit, shining with the prisoned radiance of neon-glowing hearts. The concert lights are mellow and almost ethereal. We are bathed by colour while a hauntingly beautiful voice croons songs we’ve heard many times before, but that take on a whole new, deeper meaning now that we’re hearing them together.

Years ago, my Narc and I promised each other to attend exactly this concert, and to my astonishment, we were able to keep that promise. But in the heated moments of that evening, the concert may as well have not even mattered that much.  When the guy sitting to my right frees his seat up because he’s too drunk to enjoy the concert anymore, I move over. My Narc sits between us. Close enough for me to bask in her nearness, to think about sliding my arm around her shoulders and snuggling into her. I don't do it because I think it would be inappropriate. Instead, I hold myself near but unable to bridge that final gap. I discover that I want to, need to, touch her.

There’s a lull in the music. I decide I’m brave because I place my hand on the railing in front of us. Subtly inching it towards my Narc’s personal space. Immediately, she puts her hand next to mine and hooks her little finger to my own. My heart lurches. I grin when I look at her. All of a sudden, she takes my hand off the railing and holds it.

I’m scorched with triumph. The moment seems to freeze. My heart capitulates. Her touch is an anchor. Firm, reassuring, warm. She’s laid claim to me. As we lace our fingers together, I am suffused with happiness, both ferocious and tender with my wanting.

In that moment, I don't care about her Ex. It’s as if he's stricken from my mind. He does not exist. I have eyes only for her. I want only for her to feel my devotion, to sense my passionate hunger, to take me as hers and for her to be mine. In public, no less. I crave her. I want her to give me free reign. Give me permission to do all of those things I probably shouldn't do, but ache to do just the same. With her. To her. For her. Along with all those things she would do to me. I want to experience her. 

She holds my hand, I hold hers, and it’s perfect.

I’ve been starved. This feels like a banquet. I think she’s going to let go any second now, but she continues to keep her hand in mine for a few more songs. When she does let go, I feel bereft. Her Ex is murmuring things into her ear, brushing his fingers through her hair. She shifts on his lap. My stomach is flipping over. My thoughts are screeching to a halt. I’m trying not to be that obvious with my staring. It’s hard. The music has become a sort of surreal soundtrack to what unfolds next, but the cacophonic wail ringing in my head momentarily drowns every melody out. My Narc has settled back against her Ex. One of his hands is at her waist, just shy of dipping lower between the angle of her legs. His other hand is buried in her long hair, supporting her neck. He bears down, as if looks alone could conquer. A sultry smile graces my Narc’s lips. My hand is tingling like phantom pain, as if she’s still holding it. I can’t breathe. I can’t move.  She moves. Her hand, places it on the back of his head. She’s stretched out, baring her neck, exposing herself. Then she’s kissing him. He’s kissing her. Their lips are together. Kissing.

Jealousy rips through me. If looks could kill, he’d be massacred on the spot. Entitlement flares across my skin. How dare he. It should be me kissing her. I deserve to. Me. He shouldn’t be touching her, with those hands that she said hurt her, with that mouth that she said insulted her, no no no no no not him, not him with his lying face and dead eyes.

He doesn’t deserve my Narc. That thought is my only clarity since her anchoring touch has been replaced by a feeling of being acutely alone. Excluded. My breathing is harsh and quick. I squirm in the seat. It's pointless to deny or contain the effect my Narc has on me. She could be setting an orphanage on fire and she would still be charming; she holds my heart in her hands and she knows she could toss it away with a flourish; she holds the power to give and to take. I am consumed by lust. Not being used to such raw carnality, especially at this moment in time, leaves me shaking.

I want to break his wrist for touching her. She is mine. I want her. I deserve her. I stare at them kissing, and I become her hand gripping his shoulder; the suggestive shift of her hips; her silken mouth stealing breath and presence from him; I become the hand he tilts her head back with, the calculating press of his fingers on her thigh, the slide of her dress as it tightens around her breasts, the demands of his mouth joined with hers.

When I return to myself, I want my fingernails to claw at the skin of her thigh instead. I want her to feel the heat of my touch. I want to lean over and kiss all up her neck, along her jaw, crush my mouth against hers with a moan. Hell, I want to shove my entire hand under the hem of her dress. That should teach her it’s best to play with someone her own age. Not someone like him, not him. No. How dare he touch her, kiss her, when he should be past it. How dare she want him, when I’m right here, openly dying for her affectionate attention.

I gasp, trying to stifle the sound. They eventually break their kiss. Coherent thought is obliterated by an image of myself kissing my Narc, just bearing her backwards on these stupid blue seats, kissing her and touching her and making her moan. I know I can’t just do something like that, because I have boundaries. Which are with each passing moment seeming very inconvenient and frustrating. The way I feel for her, how much I want her, especially the how, knows no boundaries. This kind of desire recognizes no master, no logic of control. To be denied her is torture, enhanced by our pulsating proximity.

Pervert, a soft voice in the back of my mind hisses. I turn my head away so my Narc doesn't have to see me scowl. But I’m not feeling particularly perverted. I’m feeling euphoric.

Calm down, I reason with myself as I tear my smouldering gaze away from them, she has to do this. They came here together. Remember he’s the one she’s going home with later.

Oh yeah.

C’mon cheer up. She has to play her part for him. Don’t you know it’s you she loves?

I glance at them again, worried. My Narc is smirking while she looks into his eyes. Does she?

Would she be here if she didn’t? Would she hold your hand if she didn’t?

I decide to stop talking to myself because that’s just weird. Instead, I focus on the concert unfolding in front of my stinging eyes. I let the swelling music wash over me. It feels like half of my mind is on fire, pounding consistently in time to the songs. Please touch me, I want to scream. I don’t care how undignified it would sound.  It’s just not fair. It’s not.

My Narc turns back around to face the stage. The Ex continues to hold her other hand, placing it very obviously on her thigh and gripping it so that his knuckles turn white. Her face is calm and collected, her posture relaxed. She screams along with the music, her hair wild and flying. It’s a release. I’m swept away with her, the knife twist of agony somehow dulled. 

Then to my surprise, she grasps my hand again, low, almost underneath our seats. My breath hitches. I immediately tighten my grip. My thumb strokes possessive circles on her skin, like I’m desperately trying to convey all of my emotions at once: relief, euphoria, panic, rage, love. I’m a storm she’s unleashed. It’s like she understands because her grip is hard, strong, unflinching. Like she’s never going to let go ever again. As if to say, It’s alright. I’m here. I’m really yours. And I am really hers. The music reaches a climax, and she raises both her hands triumphantly to the sky, showing us off to the crowd, like we’re her most prized possessions. She looks at me in a way I’ve never seen before. I partly mistake it for love, when I think it’s actually more a combination of lust, exaltation, and raw power. Looking at my Narc is like looking at the birth of a star, being captured by its pure intensity. To anyone else, her gaze would have been a withering predator’s stare, but to me it’s recognition.

When I think about this night, it was like a fever dream with malevolent undertones that didn't completely register until I collapsed into bed at home, exhausted and yet still processing it all. I knew I wasn't projecting; rather, my emotions were colouring the events and making them more visceral and real.

I couldn't keep a large part of my mind from straying into contemplating what she was doing with her Ex after the concert. It was a torrid thing to imagine. Of us three, I’m the least sexually experienced. My Narc and her Ex together would probably ravage me. I imagine he’d be forceful, harsh, but that her touch would balance it by being milder and more considerate, although no less captivating. Or the Ex and I, having our wicked way with her; his familiarity with her body would deter my clumsiness and I’m sure what I lacked in technical skill I would make up for with uncontrollable passion. More importantly, I’m sure My Narc and I would be an unstoppable force, graceful power personified. I imagine us in perfect synchrony, the connection between us throbbing and building and all consuming. We’d make him our servant, twist desire into a weapon aimed straight at his heart, and we’d make quite a beautiful, catastrophic, magnificent mess.

Maybe the extra hands and mouths would enhance the experience. But to me, hands and mouths are attached to bodies, and behind those bodies are the minds that make them attractive, lively, and enticing. I shudder. Bewilderment coils in my gut. I find my thoughts repulsive, and yet that isn't enough to keep them from crawling up and into my skull. I wish she had gone home with me. That she was in my bed right now. I’m just not sure I’d like who she’d drag into bed with her.

A Narcissist's fondness for threesomes is well documented. I don't like them; it's not entirely because of moral distaste. I'd been offered to join a threesome once before and flatly refused. It's more that I'm barely used to the idea of sharing my body with one partner I wholly trust and love and have confidence in, let alone another one (or more). I am of the opinion that threesomes diminish intimacy. Three is not a crowd, people.

Of course, people can do all sorts of things and justify them in all sorts of ways. Including disgusting and hideous things, only if it pleases them.

I find my Narc loathsome and yet that isn't enough to stop me wanting her in a way that crushes the breath from my lungs and leaves my eyes leaking and pulls my mind apart carelessly. I can't deny that she has life experience, although most of it is bad. I used to admire the command she wields over her sexuality. She does what she wants, when she wants, with whoever she chooses. That would be so inspiring if it wasn't so inconsiderate.

I'm still figuring out what makes me attractive, what I have to offer. I’m still young, after all, and at a point in my life where I haven't even begun to learn life's most important lessons. Attraction takes time. I think it's a certain mix of good mentors, good reading, and then becoming successful and confident enough that people want whatever it is I have to offer. Interestingly, my Narc and I shared a similar view regarding this. I asked her once what changes when you see someone naked, what is exchanged, what it means to be vulnerable. And she replied with a rather moving sentiment:

“It honestly depends on the situation. There's joy when you trust the person. It makes you happy to please them, to be pleased. When you give someone your body, you're truly naked. Every touch and every word, you become more vulnerable as does your partner. However some men are out to exploit this vulnerability so beware.”

Some women too, apparently. But this insight was powerful to me because I feel the same way. It’s so strange because I notice she uses the word trust and not love (even though love is a key component) and I don’t think my Narc actually knows what it truly means to be vulnerable. I thought I found comfort and strength in her arms. I thought I was safe being vulnerable with her, and I would have adored to have shared my body, to have given it to her. Freely. Honestly. Totally. To be worshiped and worship her in turn. It would have given me such joy. Yet that was not for the best; it didn’t come to pass the way I wanted it to.

And what’s more, how could I let her have me, let her touch me, kiss me, now that I know what she is? 

It’s taken me a long time to absorb that evening’s experience. I offered my Narc the initial impressions of her Ex, although obviously not all of them. It wasn't as if I could admit to my Narc that I'd indulged a threesome fantasy. Especially not when I couldn't even admit it to myself. And I didn’t realize that in describing my impressions of her Ex, I was also describing her. It hurts my heart to no end.

To be honest, upon further reflection I'm still not quite sure who exactly was exerting power over whom. Me and my Narc together, over her Ex. Her, along with her Ex, over me. Him and I together, thanks to our brief exchanges, over her. The three of us individually. Privately and publicly. Just the three of us, complementing each other in the strangest, most mind bending, insidiously sensual way.  

I'd certainly like to believe that my Narc and I had, for just one evening, joined forces. It's more probably accurate to say that my Narc was in the perfect position of extracting Supply from both her Ex and I, therefore exerting power over us both. It must have really gotten to her head. Although I have to admit, it was so perfectly executed on her part that I can’t even be angry. She's quite wicked when she wants to be. She raises manipulation to the level of art.

And perhaps, evidently, I'm a spectacular fool. There's worse things to be. But now that I've disengaged and reaffirmed my own unique worth, I do wonder if my replacement is quite as good as I am. I did gain a lot of insight about myself. I learned several important life lessons that night, including the one of self-control and that all those who gain power are afraid to lose it.

Monday Memos

It’s the start of the week again. It’s good to reflect on things about life to keep us motivated in starting and pushing through the week. Here’s some questions you may also ask yourself when you join Pleasant Palette’s Monday Memos.

For the first week, we ask ourselves should humans be completely free to do as they wish? Or do we always need a limit for it?

Every now and then, we must remember to find time to meditate and think about the things we don't usually ask ourselves or perhaps anything we're curious about. To answer the question, I firmly stand with the idea of democracy, sovereignty, and independence; on the other hand, I also believe there must be a limit for this (such as rules and regulations). These rules are proposed mainly for the people's welfare which also serve as norms that discipline people into becoming morally-upright individuals. However, we must also bear in mind that the rules must safeguard our well-being and must never be intended to deprive us of our own rights.

Zhin Jewel Ganituen

Although humans have free will to do whatever they want, there should still be set limitations on our freedom. I am a firm believer that everyone can do whatever they want to do in life so long as they are not stepping on others. An excellent example of why we are not free to do whatever we wish is the laws placed upon us. We may want to execute something that will benefit us personally but affect others badly. Rules and regulations prevent these situations from happening. An excellent example of this would have been wanting to get something for yourself, but it turns out that someone else owns that object. It is widely accepted and morally correct that we cannot claim something that is not ours as ours just because we want to.

Sophia Isabel Cauilan

For the second week, we asked what is your philosophy in life about love?

Love is not just the tingling emotion that you feel when you say "I love you" to your boyfriend or when you hug your pets after a long day. Love is a very strong emotion that almost everyone cannot explain and get a hold of. Once you are in love, you can become thoughtless, selfish, and lost but at the same time it also has a power that can make you more mature, responsible, warm and affectionate.

Ericka Joy Tovera

On to the third week, JP explains why do humans seek validation? 

There are many articles on why we should stop seeking validation. Honestly, it’s okay to validate each other's lives just like many other things in life, we should strike a balance between validating ourselves and seeking approval from others. The praise one receives from others should enhance the self-esteem which is already good. Good self-esteem of our personal value, appreciating ourselves which is stable and enduring is a trait to be grown.

A good thing about validating our feelings is we can not only appreciate us for what we did but also for what we did not. You have the right to feel what you feel. Yet, when we catch us going down the path of blues, recognizing it at the right moment to uplift ourselves will help us understand our feelings and work it out. The most important bond we need to have is with ourselves to function well with others.

JP Sazon

For the last week of August, we can conclude the month by asking if is time only a concept made by humans? Is it something we restrict ourselves with?

Time, in my opinion, does not exist yet is still there. We use it to map out our past to the present and take our psychological, biological, and spiritual experiences of Time using calendars and timekeeping devices. There are many examples of ancient cultures that had completely different ways of understanding the passage of Time and keeping track. The Mayan civilization is an excellent example of this, where they used the cosmic view. 

There are probably other ways of understanding Time psychologically and existentially. Our culture happens to rely on the sun and the moon, and we are restricted to the things we place our awareness on. If our knowledge is only placed on the setting sun and the moons’ movement, then our perception is limited to those repetitive patterns in nature. As I mentioned, the ancient Mayan civilization had an awareness of the cosmos. Therefore, they were less limited than we are in terms of understanding their place in the universe.

Joshua Mallo

On another note, Eana answered the question Why do we love to love?

Ever since I was younger, I have always loved reading romance novels. It was just a genre that I genuinely enjoyed. To me, it was really interesting reading and imagining how the characters would fall in love and live happily ever after. It was a fairytale concept that I never really moved on from. As old as I am now, I still believe that that kind of love still exists. In this day and age, love is no longer much of a priority, a feeling, a bond but is considered as a business and necessity to most, probably. It kind of made me realize how different the world is compared to the world I loved to live in. In a way, this concept of love is something that I deeply love. 

To be honest, I have never really thought deeply about love before until I was in the middle of my teenage stage. Back then, I loved to imagine myself being in love and happy with my idols/crushes then, one direction, 5sos, the vamps, and the indomitable, Justin Bieber. I was a big fan of all of them and I just loved listening to their music and watching their videos. It gave me some sort of inspiration and motivation back then, to work harder and be as successful as them. So, why do we love to love? 

One, Love lessens our physical perception of pain and threat. Do you notice that whenever you’re going through something physically painful be it taking shots from the doctor when you’re holding the hands of someone you love, or when they’re comforting you, the pain that you feel doesn’t seem as bad? This has actually been already tested in the University of Virginia and it is in fact, true. Two, Feeling secure in a loving relationship makes us more open to the world. Love makes us feel whole and inspired, it makes us happier and more understanding. With these positive emotions that we get from love, it makes us more open and accepting of the world. Love makes us realize a lot of things about life and people. Being loved gives us encouragement and that small push that we need in order to share that love with others as well. Lastly, Love can help you better cope with painful emotions. Having to go through a really difficult time alone is really tough. You cannot vent and let all your emotions out, speak to someone, and ask for advice. When you feel loved, when you’re loved, when you love, you’ll feel more open to yourself and to others. In return, when you’re more open and accepting to your feelings, consequently, when facing an emotionally stressful situation, you’ll be able to handle it better.

It may not be as obvious to some, but indeed love is something that we need, it is one of our basic and fundamental needs. At times, we try to fight the desire to be comforted and be loved when we’re facing our toughest times. We ignore that innate feeling and bury it deep inside. Yes, love can be really intimidating, sometimes painful, other times amazing but let’s all agree that Love is definitely something that we love, consciously or unconsciously.

Eana Ranillo

It is important to know how to reflect on these things so that we may be able to assure ourselves that it is okay.

Sunflowers

Pairing: Jhope x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Non AU

Summary: Y/N works at a small local art supply store while she is a university student studying art in Korea, and one day she receives a really unexpected customer at the worst of times.  (Or the one where Y/N has the pleasure of meeting one of her idols, but of course it had to be when her hair was a mess and she was covered head to toe in paint splatters.)

Word Count: 2,447

A/N: This was a request from the lovely @kdrawvh , who has recently been sharing in my lack of loyalty and slipping into hoseok’s lane along with me,,,,thanks for always being there with me lmao.  Hope you enjoy this, lovely! (Btw: Fine pupper ;))) )

Whenever the dialogue in quotes is bolded, it means someone is speaking korean  idk korean so im writing it in english but pretend they’re speaking korean they’re in korea okay

I imagine him looking something like this for this story (the image isn’t mine): 

It had been a pretty slow day at the small art store.  Not too many customers, not too many deliveries, and not too many interruptions in general.  Y/N was fairly pleased because this meant that she had basically had the majority of her 7 hour shift to herself to work on her painting behind the counter at the front of the small store.  Her unlimited access to all of the supplies the store sold was one of the main reasons she took the job in the first place, so it always brightened her mood just a little more when she actually had time to use those supplies.  

Y/N was just in the middle of re-tying her hair up in a ponytail after it had fallen out for the umpteenth time that day, when the bell above the door rang.  With her hands full, she couldn’t really take out the paintbrush she was holding between her teeth while she finished tying her hair.

“Jamkkanman (just a moment),” she tried to mumble, turning to flash as much of a smile as she could at the middle-aged lady who had just entered the shop.  Being an exchange student in Korea, Y/N always found herself forgetting the local customs and social norms, so she had to remind herself to return the polite bow the customer had given her in greeting.

After rushing to finish her ponytail, Y/N set down her paintbrush in the pot of brown paint she had been using and went to ask the customer if she needed assistance with her shopping.  The lady had refused her help kindly, so Y/N returned to the front counter (and her beloved canvas) to continue her work.  The mood was just exactly right for her due to the dusky sunlight streaming in through the store’s large front windows, and due to the soft songs that were currently playing over the loudspeaker from Y/N’s phone.

Thank god I didn’t forget to bring my AUX cord today...or else I wouldn’t have had decent music to listen to.

Soon enough the customer left without purchasing anything, and Y/N said goodbye and bowed as she watched the woman’s back move further down the street.  With every step farther the woman took, Y/N’s excitement grew all the more until she finally turned the corner and was out of sight completely.  

This meant that Y/N could go back to her painting.  

She silently cheered and smiled to herself while pumping one fist in the air, before standing back to admire the picture so far.  She had to reacquaint herself with the subject before continuing her shading and coloring with the multiple colors of paints she had out on the large easel she was using.  

Y/N had chosen a rather complicated source of inspiration today: Van Gogh’s Sunflower painting.  It was complicated not because of the subject of the painting, but because Y/N wanted to paint the sunflowers in a simultaneously different and similar way to Van Gogh, which was not something easy to accomplish.  She desired to make the painting her own somehow, but it was so hard when all she wanted to do was recreate the perfection that Van Gogh had created already all those many years ago.  Y/N once again picked up her wood palette in her left hand after considering the painting for a few more seconds, and picked up her brush with her right hand to begin mixing a dusty yellow color to shade in part of the flowers’ petals.  

But again, just as she had finished with the shading, she was interrupted by the small bell above the door chiming happily, and Y/N sighed quietly to herself before turning around, but her standard greeting died in her throat when she didn’t see the customer she expected to see.  With a furrowed brow, she peered curiously at the front door, but relaxed a little when she heard rustling down one of the aisles and then saw a flash of movement in the back of the store as (what appeared to be) a young man moved from aisle to aisle.  

“Do you need help finding anything today, sir?”  Y/N tried to speak loudly so that the customer would hear her, wherever he was in the small store.

“Ah, no, thank you!  I think I can find it okay on my own!”  Y/N started to turn back to her painting with a small smile on her lips, but a nagging voice in the back of her mind told her that she had heard that voice somewhere before.  

And as much as she tried to ignore it, she could not, so she closed her eyes and slapped her cheeks a little to make herself focus again before turning away from the store aisles and back to her artwork.  She chose an orange color this time and began to mix it with some brown paint that was already on her palette.  One of her favorite songs, Spring Day by BTS, started to play over the speaker and she found herself unable to resist humming along to the familiar tune even though there was another person in the store.

Little did she know, but the man that had entered the shop had realized he actually did need help finding his desired supplies, and had approached the front counter to ask for help, but was now captivated by the sight and sound of the young artist at work.  Her hair was askew and falling out of her pony tail, and there were dots (and larger, more intentional spots) of paint all over the girl; from what the man could see, the paint seemed to be everywhere from her hair, to her forehead, to her black t-shirt that sported the name of the shop, to the jeans that were cinched loosely around her waist with a belt that was, you guessed it, also covered in paint splotches.  But all of this didn’t matter to the man, and it may have even enhanced the image of the almost ethereal girl that was glowing in the sun and painting it’s flowers, while singing one of his band’s songs.

As he watched, he looked for an appropriate time to get the girl’s attention, and luck seemed to be on his side when the girl set down her paintbrush a few moments later in favor of fixing her ponytail again for the third time that hour.

“Ah, excuse me miss...” said the man, watching the girl’s shoulders jump slightly as she was startled.  He thought time would stop as she turned and he was finally face to face with her, able to finally meet the eyes that he had wanted to see ever since he heard her cheery, yet pensive voice ringing out across the shop.

Now Y/N, admittedly, had chosen to study art abroad in Korea with the thought in the back of her mind that she would maybe, possibly, if the heavens were on her side, get to meet some of the idols of kpop she had admired and cherished for years (although she would never say it out loud).  But never did she expect to be given that chance on a random Thursday afternoon, at her job, with flyaway hairs running wild and paint all over herself.

Her humming to the chorus of Spring Day caught in the back of her throat as she found herself in front of one of her idols, Jung Hoseok himself, otherwise known as her hope, her angel, J-Hope.

Y/N struggled to find her voice while her mouth flopped uselessly open and closed because J-Hope was right in front of her and he was staring at her and their eyes were meeting and he wasn’t looking away and-

“I was uh...singing your song..rather off-key if I do say so myself..”

Y/N looked down at her shoes as she cursed herself for thinking that was a good thing to say first to the man she had often dreamed of meeting in person.  Although she was forced to look back up at Hoseok when he smiled the sweetest smile and replied that it was fine and that he actually rather liked her version of the song; she couldn’t just not look at the source of the voice that was dripping in honey and happiness even more than she had heard over her speakers for so long.  After hearing that J-Hope actually liked her rendition of Spring Day, Y/N felt like she could die there and then with no regrets, but she remembered that she still had a job to do and managed to stutter out a nervous “how can I help you today”.  

“Ah, do you know BTS?  I’m assuming you do since you knew all the words to our song, but you could just like that song y’know...I started rambling again didn’t I?  Sorry, I tend to do that alot, anyways, you know our Jin-Hyung, right?  Well, he’s making more of his famous hearts to send to ARMY during our next concert and he needs a giant sheet of red poster paper and glitter, do you know where I could find that?”

Hoseok was normally not nearly as nervous as he was around Y/N, but for some reason he found himself greatly affected by the innocent and almost reverent way she stared at him wide-eyed as he spoke.  

Y/N was having almost the same problem as she tried to comprehend the fact that Jung-Fucking-Hoseok was live and in person a foot away from her while also trying to understand the rapid-fire Korean that the same man had spit in his haste to ask his question.  Now she definitely knew his rapping skills were no joke.

Composing herself as best as she could, Y/N finally answered Hoseok with only a smile (one that dazzled his eyes and made him feel like he had actually been staring at the sun instead of at a human woman), and beckoned for him to follow her down one of the aisles where she knew the paper, glue, and glitter was kept.

“I think you’ll also need some glue, unless you guys have that already...”.  Y/N stopped abruptly so that she could lean over and rummage through a drawer of different bottles of red glitter, and Hoseok had to stop himself from bumping into her and knocking the poor girl over, leading to him being slightly more flustered than he already was.  

But Y/N had already lost most of her nervousness, slipping into her comforting world of arts and crafts, and almost forgetting that she was currently standing next to one of the world’s most popular Korean idols. Almost.

A nervous silence settled over the two as Y/N continued to gather the paper and glitter that Hoseok had requested, and as Hoseok continued to try his best not to stare at the girl before him and trace the paint on her skin with his eyes.  

They both tried to speak at the same time, effectively shutting them both up and having the exact opposite affect of what they had wanted previously.  But this only made them start laughing really loudly, and soon both Hoseok and Y/N were practically rolling on the floor.  They had both been so nervous that their feelings had manifested in the form of almost-maniacal laughter.

Once they had both started to sober up, Y/N showed the glitter she had selected to Hoseok for his approval, and he had smiled fondly at her while nodding in confirmation that her artistic judgement was indeed perfect.  

“Well, I wouldn’t exactly call it perfect but...”

Hoseok couldn’t help but let his lower jaw drop open in surprise before realizing his mistake and fixing his expression once more.  “Did I...did I say that out loud just now?”

Y/N just giggled (and Hoseok swore it was even an more beautiful sight and sound than Jin-hyung singing and playing Awake on the guitar) before nodding a yes in his direction.  Hoseok simply laughed a little at himself as he awkwardly ran a hand through his hair, while in his mind he was praying to every single one of his lucky stars that he could make it out of the store without embarrassing himself further.

Y/N kept laughing quietly to herself at how much cuter Hoseok was in real life as she continued to lead him down the aisle to collect the rest of the things he needed.  Once they were all done, Y/N and Hoseok made their way to the front counter.

“Ah, Y/N, let me carry all that stuff.  I am the one buying it after all.”

Y/N felt her stomach flip and fireworks go off in her heart when she heard her name falling from Hoseok’s lips; it was something she never thought she would get to hear (considering she had also forgotten that she was wearing a nametag on her uniform shirt).  It was all she could do to stop herself from squealing, so she started to ring up Hoseok’s items in a valiant effort to distract herself.

But as any reasonable person knows, it is rather hard to ignore the actual sun when it is brightly watching and smiling at you from mere inches away as you scan barcodes and tap on electronic touchscreens.  

Y/N managed to slip into a comfortable silence within herself, when Hoseok chose to shatter it with his next words.  Y/N hadn’t even noticed that she had finished ringing him up and charging his credit card, pushing a receipt and a pen at him for him to sign.  

“I really like your take on the Van Gogh, by the way.  Those sunflowers remind me of you a little.”

Hoseok felt a tiny smirk spread on his lips as he saw the way Y/N’s eyes widened slightly at the wink he threw her way, impressed at himself for how quickly he was able to get his butt in gear and actually start flirting with the girl he had found attractive since the moment he had walked into the store.

He quickly finished signing the receipt and turned it around so that it faced Y/N once more, and left the store with a quiet “thank you” and one more sunny smile thrown over his shoulder.

Y/N felt a similar smile overtake her features as she looked down at his receipt that now bore his familiar autograph, along with his chat ID on a popular messaging app.  Y/N couldn’t believe she had taken the tiny bells above the door for granted for so long, as they were what had alerted her to her dream come true in the first place; she would make sure to never forsake the little silver bells again.

Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed, and don’t be afraid to like, reblog, and tell me your thoughts/comments! 

Research point

Impressionism

Optical effects have been exploited by many artists to create movement and depict the effects of light.

The Artist’s Handbook of Materials and Techniques by Ralph Mayer talks about impressionists:

“The followers of the French Impressionist school have been said to have utilized the additive process by substituting the juxtaposition of small spots of pure colour for mixtures of colours. When viewed from an adiquate distance the light rays reflected from these adjacent colours merge, producing upon the eye a blended hue sometimes entirely different from that which would have been produced had the colours been mixed on a palette. The effect is clear and has a particularly vibrant, luminous quality. A similar effect, as all painters know, is produced when mixed colours are not too thoroughly blended on the palette but are rather loosely scrambled on the canvas.”

This technique is known as pointilism. Two main players of this technique are Seurat and Signac. Art Since 1900 Modernism Antimodernism Postmodernism published by Thames & Hudson mentions how Matisse was inspired by the techniques of Seurat:

“There was surprisingly little emphasis on Seurat’s dream or on the optical physiology theories on which it was based - the idea that the human eye could perform something like the prismatic decomposition of light in reverse, that the ‘divided’ colours would resynthesize on the retina in order to attain the luminosity of the sun - perhaps because Signac had already admitted to himself that this was a chimera. Rather, Signac insisted on the successive ‘contributions’ of Delacroix and of the Impressionists, undrestood as having paved the way for total emancipation of pure colour performed by neo-Impressionism.”

Saint-Tropez, Fontaine des Lices (1895) by Paul Signac

Source: https://www.artsy.net/artwork/paul-signac-saint-tropez-fontaine-des-lices

Art Since 1900 Modernism Antimodernism Postmodernism published by Thames & Hudson also mentions how these Impressionists exacted their colours:

“the landscape painters who emerged in the 1870s and became known as Imperssionists hunted down the effects of colour through plein air (out-of-doors) paintign in which they discovered how the actual colour of shadows cast by the golden sun is violet. Stroking such complementary colours onto the surfaces of their figures in short, fragile traces, the brushwork they practiced dissolved drawing into a shimmer of coloured light. By the 1880s, Claude Monet and Auguste Renoir, the leading Impressionists, worried about the dissolution of line and thus of form that was a consequence of their attention to colour. The emergence of neo-Impressionism, in the work of Georges Seurat and Paul Signac, was the acknowledgment of this resurgence of the rights of drawing.”

Bathers at Asnières (1884) by Georges Seurat

Source: https://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/paintings/georges-seurat-bathers-at-asnieres

Impressionism has always been a style of painting that interests me as I see it as one of the first historical steps towards abstraction. In summary, the pointilist artists such as Signac and Seurat above, have managed to capture colours in a creative and optical way that tricks the eyes. By studying colours and seeing how light and shadow affects them, they have strived for colour accuracy and they have done this in an original and interesting way. I particularly like the work of Signac becuase up close it is easy to observe his pointilist technique and each individual colour but if you try and imagine viewing his paintings at a large scale from a distance, you can see how all the colours would blend together and create the perfect mix to represent the atmosphere of the scene.

Op-art

Art Since 1900 Modernism Antimodernism Postmodernism published by Thames & Hudson describes the work of Bridget Riley; “an illusion of movement (and of volume) is engendered by the destabilization of a regular pattern and the continually confusing inversion of figure and ground.”

Fall (1963) by Bridget Riley

Sources: https://www.tate.org.uk/art/artists/bridget-riley-1845

https://www.tate.org.uk/art/artworks/riley-fall-t00616

Bridget Riley developed her Op-art style in 1960 where she explored the dynamic potentialities of optical phenomena and the works produce a disorienting physical effect on the eye.

The piece above (Fall) features a single perpendicular curve which is repeated to create a field of varying optical frequencies. Though in the upper part a gentle relaxed swing prevails, the curve is rapidly compressed towards the bottom of the painting. The composition verges on the edge of disintegration without the structure ever breaking. 

This painting was made between 1961 to 1964 (1963) which was a period where she was concerned with working with the contrast of black and white, occasionally introducing tonal scales of grey.

A comment from Riley herself about the work is, “I try to organise a field of visual energy which accumulates until it reaches maximum tension.”

When I look at this painting I see a lot of movement. I see vertical movement in the compacting of lines and the horizontal movement of lines swaying from side to side. I find Riley’s work to be very intelligent as it features a calculated mathmatical aspect and also creative as it plays with our eyes to create a 3D moving image over a flat 2D surface. Her level of precision is also impecable as each line has been so accuratley painted in place to create this effect.

Achaean (1981) by Bridget Riley

I recently visited the Tate Britain where two of Riley’s works are on display. Above shows one of the pieces I saw. It is large in scale, which I tried to show in my photograph by including some of the background, and consists of several vertical coloured lines. When I stood in front of this painting, the first colour that leapt out at me was orange but looking at the photograph now it is black I see first. The person I was with at the gallery saw pink most prominently. It is said that the colours we notice first in an arrangement can be determined by the colour of our eyes and whether we are left or right brained. When you are close to this painting you can stare at it up close and not be distracted by things around you; all the colours start to blend together and go blurry in your vision. The colours in this painting are inspired by what Riley saw in Egyptian tomb paintings and the local landscape. The simplicity of the composition allows the colous of this painting to establish the structure.

In conclusion, both styles of Impressionism and Op-art use optical effects to bring life to their paintings. Impressionism uses vivid and life-like colours to make their paintings accurate and interactive and Op-art uses black and white monochrome shapes to add volume and movement to the work. Both techniques trick the eye, regardless of their use (or lack) of colour. What I can take from this research and apply to my own work is that colour accuracy doesn’t necessarily mean pre-mixing colours on a palette, it can mean using the nature of human vision to create a realistic effect and volume doesn’t have to be created through shading, it can be done effectively using line.

I saw:

Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children- Have you ever played the game Final Fantasy VII? If not I would have a tough time summerizing this animated sequel. My mother, who never had played it, sighed a few times and said she found it a bit boring because all they did was fight. Video game fighting where the reality of what endurance or physical feats a human body can manage don’t exist in the slightest. So if you aren’t invested at all in either the characters or the narrative concepts then it becomes a meaningless blur  of leaping, bashing and crashing.

I, on the other hand, DID play the game. I never play games any more, amd this is part of the reason. See, once upon a time, when my brother was in college, when we visited him he gave me a chance to play his then favorite game. I was hooked instantly and he noticed. Back then he hadn’t yet decided to hate me for my failure to live up to his expectations, and so for Christmas he gave me a second hand gaming system and the two games I’d played on visits: Final Fantasy VII and Spyro. This proved disasterous.

You see, up until then I had never gotten to play games without my brother hogging the systems. Starting with that Pong like game that hooked to the tv, to the Atari 2600, and far beyond I’d had to share with a super aggresive player. To play with him was to play with someone that managed to be both a poor loser AND winner. And whenever anyone proved better at him with a game he’d refuse to ever play it again. Playing alone wasn’t really an option because he was always playing something.

And now I had my own system AND two games I enjoyed. Little did I know the dark side of me it would unleash. I started playing. And playing. 

“I’ll stop in a minute.” I’d say, and hours later I’d be still playing. 

“Yeah, I’ll go to bed soon.” I’d say an watch the sun rise. 

I would sit there in play ignoring sleep and food, obsessed. My fingers hurt, really hurt, and creaked when I moved them, but I kept playing. 

I hated myself. 

Really, I loved the games but hated what I did to myself.  I had sooooo much I needed to be doing. That I wanted to be doing. I should have been working, helping out Pop in the shop. I wasn’t making anything or learning anything. I had nothing to show for it at the end of the day. If the day ended with my unstoppable playing.

I played both games through, and after I’d won them I hunted down all the hidden areas and so on. I wanted to explore everything, even if it killed me I guess! LOL

In short, I was an addict.

I know, people make light of the idea of video game addiction, but really what else can you call it? I was neglecting everything else in my life including my health. I enjoyed every second, until I stopped when instantly guilt, self loathing and shame would kick in. I’d promise myself I’d skip a day or two, but I wouldn’t. I insist that this time I really would stop after an hour or two tops, but I didn’t. Uncontrollable desire to do something to the point of damaging your life, an inability to stop, and nothing positive to show for it. No, this was a serious problem.

I solved it by packing up the game system at my parent’s house and storing the game itself at the house at the shop. Thank you physical media for making that possible! With modern downloadable games....well, I’d hate to imagine how that would end. I went cold turkey.

My brother never forgave me for it. He was outraged. He would not accept I had a problem and this my only solution. He thought I was criticizing him, even though I insisted I did NOT mean it that way. He could play however he wanted, but I couldn’t. He would remain like this, like a person trying to insist an alcoholic had a drink with them and get offended no matter how politely you refuse. I eventually made the rule I could play when visiting him, but never, ever alone. 

I played the first two Bioshock games that way, and though the addiction was in effect. Once he would turn it on and hand me the controller, I would end up not going out and helping with things where I was needed, sitting there until time to go home, begging for a few more minutes that would turn into an hour until Mom would get angry since we did have a 2 1/2 hr drive ahead. 

He nearly had me on dangerous ground with World of Warcraft, cleverly trying to hook me (which was easy) and manipulate me so I would be part of his group. He even was offering to buy me a computer because mine was too antiquated to run the game. But he made one crucial error. After laying the ground work over a couple of months and getting me completely obsessed he had me do a trial run as part of his party....

NO.

Just, no.

He wanted me to be there because neither he nor his wife’s characters could learn the skills involving leather working. I was to merely to follow (”Just type this and you automatically follow” ), skin things, carry things, make things...but not really play! I wasn’t to explore. I wasn’t to fight. I wasn’t to have fun! I mean what is the point of a game if you don’t have to figure things out? None.

So I couldn’t play World of Warcraft with them, because it was a miserable experience, I couldn’t go back to playing it alone at their house because they would have had a fit I wasn’t playing it with them.  I couldn’t play at home because my tech couldn’t handle it. I was cured! LOL

And so that has been that. I am not a gamer because I can’t without that addiction returning. Since my brother tossed me from his house in the double whammy of the “Wallace and Grommit incident” followed by the “photographing our  parents debacle” I have not had a place I could play without it taking over my life.  And the knowlege of my potential to addictioj all began with Final Fantasy VII.

I do actually still love that game, though I have not played it once since I made the break all those years ago. My ongoing affection for the characters made the movie more enjoyable for me than Mom. She did have one advantage in that she didn’t have to adjust to the very different artistic style, cartoony going sort of realistic and the color palette being so darn muted and grey. But I, on the other hand, could enjoy the way Cloud was still dealing two years out with the emotional fallout from the game story. Still, the movie is a bit like watching someone else play a game with all those, YAWN, fight scenes. I never have liked watching someone else play, finding it boring. So in the end the movie is an interesting novelty for fans of the game, but not really a satisfying movie by itself. 

POSEIDON » TAEHYUNG X WHEEIN

(GREEK GOD.) Olympian God of the Oceans and king of the sea gods; also god of rivers, storms, flood and drought, earthquakes, and horses. He controlled every aspect of the seas.

CHAPTER TWO.

CH1 | CH2

Words: 5.024 words.

Genre: Adventure, Fluff, Mystery, Romance.

Based Of: Uncharted + Greek Mythology + Mermaid!Wheein

Description: “In the depths of these oceans, secrets, mysteries, and things that humans can’t fathom into their brains. Sure, our brain’s imagination is infinitive—never ending, but there are things we can’t comprehend because we were raised to not believe such myths. Yet, here I am; staring at a girl with deep, sea-like eyes and bizarre ‘legs’.“ — Kim Taehyung.

Disclaimer: I am in no way close with 방탄소년단 and BigHit Entertainment . However, everything written here belongs to me. Every word and quote within this story is written by me. Please don’t copy or repost and translate anywhere else without asking.

He was dreaming, wasn't he? It must be a dream. Such things... don't exist.

Taehyung woke up the next woke up the next morning feeling refreshed; new. It felt as if he woke up from a deep slumber, and the constant grogginess he felt whenever he woke up from such sleep was replaced with excitement bubbling in his stomach. The air he was breathing was different. Perhaps it was the window he left open presented him with the crisp breeze into his room. Despite the increasing coldness of the city, the air entering his lungs were like freshly baked bread entering his mouth, and oh so he missed such feeling. Hanging by a thin strand that separated him from reaching poverty never felt so nice before. Dust of magic and shimmer brimmed his room ever so lightly, as Taehyung reminisced the creature he met that day. And so, he remembered that his new friend was probably waiting for him.

His legs soon took him to the beach. Was there anything quite blissful as an amble by the seashore? Walking through an airy womb between the cerulean-blue gown, that went by the name the sea, and the ground dipped in earth shine-gold, the beach.

The gentle pulsing heart of the sea caused a swell and the waves cascading onto shepherd's hook of gold that left its grains and mark against it. The rollers of gem-blue dashing the sand left a salty aroma that he grew addicted to.

His eyes cast into the thin line of nickel-silver, the identical, fresh air exiting his pale lips. The tips of his fingers played with themselves, buried in his pockets to gather heat. He silently admired the feng shui perfection of the beach that held its own magical touch. It was Poseidon's realm, he thought to himself, and I'm not supposed to be here.

Suddenly, he had a light bulb moment. The lanky guy was disappointed at first, but then he realized that his cyan-blue paradise hosted another guest, Wheein. He wasn't alone; he never was. As his nose was tantalized by the pouring fragrance from the sea's vial, Taehyung started walking towards the rock he met an alluring creation of the Gods.

"Ah, you actually came?" her galaxy filled eyes met his 'boring' ones. A small dent was engraved in her right cheek, as she tried holding back her hopeful smile. Her wet, black curls framed her face and rested on her chest. Her elbows were on the rock that separated the two and her chin rested between the vertex of her hands.

"What, you expected me not to?" Taehyung joked around, looking down at the petite girl.

"Actually... yes. It's not like you meet a mermaid everyday."

"Touché."

With the help of the brown-eyed boy, the duo were sitting on the shore. The obsidian-black beauty was resting against his side; it was hard behind on land when you have a tail. Speaking of tails, Wheein spoke up about it: "So, since you came back, I've been planning on telling you something ever since you said you will come back."

"M'kay," he hummed in response. "What is it?"

"So, you know how I told you that mermaids can have legs if they have the permission, right?" Wheein didn't wait for a confirmation from him and continued on with her talk. "That only happens when you're on an important task, and as you can tell, I'm on a huge task.

"The only reason I'm telling you this is because I need your help. I also have the permission on having a human companion to help me with this quest. However, you need to have an oath to the Gods that you swear on your life and soul that you won't share such sacred information to any other human being.

"The quest is to find Poseidon's Utopia. I think that name is pretty uncommon, and your people would often go by the name Atlantis—a lost city. I already have a couple of starters, and I need your help."

Wheein definitely didn't want to go deeper in case Taehyung doesn't accept her request. She was really hopeful that he would help her. She was more than sure that he would accept it and such thoughts made her sound a little too confident and egotistical. However, she was a mermaid. Mermaids were able to lure the darkest and most secretive people with a snap of fingers. Legends even claim that they wouldn't fail on seducing the Devil himself, as such creatures were meant to tempt men, mainly sailors, to death.

Taehyung, on the other hand, didn't seem that fazed by the enchantments she hung around the air. And that made her realize that he was the one who was supposed to help her with inexorable task. If anything, he was disconcerted by the fact that mermaids, sirens, and even incubuses existed.

"Out of everyone, why me? Wait- scratch that... most importantly, what would I benefit from helping you?" That was the first thing Taehyung said after about five seconds of silence passed by.

"Since you're helping me, a mythical creature, with a task from the Gods themselves, I'm pretty sure you'd be able to get whatever you have in mind. Whether it was happiness, money, fame, or anything. You can take it as a deal with Hades minus selling your soul and going to Tartarus." Wheein peeled her eyes off his and looked at the uncoiling waves that resembled an old, vellum parchment rolling in front of their eyes.

"Then, I'll help you."

← τ →

Her galaxy shined more than ever, and Taehyung felt himself get captivated all over again. He never saw such beautiful eyes in his entire life, especially since South Korea is filled with dark eyed people. Wheein's orbs were out of the world. They weren't just blue, but they had specs and dusts of light brown and yellow. Taehyung could've sworn that he could see an entire beach in her eyes. The palette of light brown illustrated grains of gold scattered that kept getting hit by blue gradient.

His eyes and thoughts were so deep into hers to the point he didn't notice Wheein's new form. Her petite arms were holding onto his, as pearl-white light came from her body—waist and down. Taehyung snapped out of his trance when the mythical creature closed her eyes shut from the light. The sight that unfolded in front of him felt so ethereal and just so splendorous. Taehyung's free hand instinctively covered his eyes partly, as he tried to grab a glimpse of the view. The light that was once on Wheein's lower body travelled up to her upper body, and Taehyung was uncertain whether he hand to remove his hands or not. He decided against it, as he didn't want her to fall and hurt herself in a way.

Diaphanous fabric covered Wheein's body. Her chest that used to be covered with shining pearls and fish-skin 'bra' was now replaced with a tight, white crop-top along with a salmon colored jacket that reached a bit below her hips. Her legs... Taehyung have seen hundreds of legs, but he was mesmerized once again. Perhaps the seductive aura Wheein had around her caused such conflicting feelings arise within Taehyung, but he was too 'whipped' to notice. Her short legs were covered with short, washed out jeans. Her feet, however, were bare. He never thought of feet that much, but he found Wheein's weirdly cute.

"Oh, my Zeus."

"Oh, my God."

The two blurted out in sync. Wheein hands unintentionally pushed Taehyung away from her body when she went to hold her legs. She never had legs in her life, and it was such a weird experience to her. They were extremely pale too, probably because they were never exposed to the sun.

The first thing Wheein did was hold her leg to examine it closely. Due to not being that flexible, she ended up falling backwards. A small giggle left her mouth, as she looked at her feet. Her black hair was covered in sand from her fall, but Wheein didn't seem to mind at all. She was fascinated by her own self that she felt her own self-confidence hit the roof.

"Feet are so weird," she breathed out and sat up. "Can I see yours again?"

Taehyung chuckled and took off his shoes and socks with no hesitance. Wheein shifted in her place and sat down in front of Taehyung, immediately comparing her feet with his. The difference between them was huge, and Wheein couldn't help but laugh at their difference. She probably looked so small and short next to him too. She wasn't that surprised either since she noticed how his hand would almost cover all of hers.

"You're so small," Taehyung teased her. His hands ruffled her black hair once he stood up, a small smile dancing on his face. "Let's go to my house first, okay? Wait— do you know how to walk?"

Taehyung rubbed his arms to warm himself down from the cold wind. His head was tilted down in order to look at the content girl. Her crinkled eyes and dimpled smile reminded him of his baby cousins that had that overjoyed look when they received a gift they always wanted. It was weird how he already was spellbound to her, and Wheein was starting to notice that from his longing stares. That was when she stopped her hypnotizing aura from affecting him even further.

"I don't know?" she replied in hesitance then stood up, her hand holding onto his.

Taehyung felt normal when their hands touched that time, and it freaked him a bit. The magic that was hung around the air between them was suddenly gone; it was weird. He was glad that it was over, as he felt himself go crazy from how he got lured by her. He never understood how mermaids would wrap their fingers around random men they find in the ocean until now.

His flushed cheeks didn't help cover Taehyung's flustered state. Wheein was holding onto him tightly as if her legs were about to give out and she would land face-first on the ground. The steps she took were short and slow-paced. It felt as if he really was teaching a kid on how to walk for the first time. Taehyung was a sucker for kids, so he wasn't that bothered. His boxed smile was visible the whole time while he counted her steps.

"Do you think you can walk by yourself now?" Taehyung asked her, starting to unwrap her hands from his.

Wheein bit down on her lower lip harshly. She didn't know how to answer him. A part of her was scared and hesitant, definitely. She wasn't sure that she would be able to walk already. Wheein needed his hands for support. Instead of answering him, she slowly let go of him and started to walk a bit. Just like she expected and predicted, she almost fell to her knees if Taehyung didn't hold her quickly. His reflexes were pretty quick. She had to admit that.

"I guess not? You're progressing really quickly, and that's good! Do you want to try again?" Taehyung slightly cheered her with light words of encouragement. A small, shaky breath left Wheein's lungs when she mentally fought with herself on whether trying again or not.

"So...?" he trailed off, not really sure on what to expect.

"Wait, I think I can." Wheein let go of his hand and tried walking again with hesitance lacing her steps. Soon, once she got used to the feeling, Wheein took off running, often between the sea's lips that softly kissed the sun-kissed sand. Salty water went in between her toes, and never in her hundred years of living she felt this way. She couldn't put her finger on what she was feeling, but she loved it.

It made her think on why Taehyung wanted to take his life when he had so much to explore with his feet? He had forests and countries to explore, palaces to visit, mountains to climb, and much more. Yes, Wheein didn't understand his reasoning at all; she was and always were a mermaid! There was nothing wrong with not knowing or empathizing with someone's hardships, of course. Matter of fact, Wheein would absolutely love it if Taehyung opened up more to her. The two were going to spend months and possibly years together. Might as well become best friends, right?

← λ →

His house wasn't much, but he liked it nonetheless. Living in Seoul was hard, so being able to get such house despite his financial problems was something Taehyung was always grateful though. Another thing he was grateful for was his health. Sure, he did try to kill himself a couple of days before and he regretted it. However, it was mind-awakening in a way. Him meeting Wheein helped him realize it too. Taehyung should've been grateful for being born in a whole piece with no deadly diseases or hard and life-threatening mental disorders. The thought of having to breathe for more was something he was even grateful for. Some people would be taking their last breath right at that second, and thinking about it like this made him content with the life he was living.

"Your house is very nice and cozy." Wheein commented while running her hand through her hair. Of course it was way different that her house in the middle of the sea. The sudden change in pressure, climate and just her surroundings made her feel slightly sick. She wasn't used to taking taking elevators to go to her house, nor she was used to taking the stairs. Her hair would never stay down and would tend to float around her. She felt homesick, and of course she missed her house. However, she had a mission that she had to complete in order to go back home.

"Ah, really? It's not that much, but make yourself at home. You can change into warmer clothes, too. Just take anything from my closet." Taehyung told her after he gave her a mini tour around his house.

It wasn't really much. Just a living room connected to a kitchen, a bathroom, and a bedroom. All were in the hues of white and shades of blue. He was glad that he chose blue since he could sense that the color helped his new friend relax even more. The colors of blue probably reminded her of her home and comforted her in a way.

"Okay... thank you so much, by the way." she gave him a shy smile, her hands fidgeting with each other absentmindedly.

"Ah, it's nothing. I'll be back after you change." Taehyung shrugged it off and went to the kitchen. Thankfully, he had some left-over food that his other friends got for him the other day. His friends were another thing he was grateful for too. They've been friends since high school, and they never separated each other after many years.

Taehyung took out some of the Korean food from his fridge and reheated it on the stove instead. He found that when food was reheated on the stove, it tastes better than microwaved food.

Taehyung prepared the small table that was in between the kitchen and the living room while the food was on the stove. They were going to eat on it, obviously. He let out a small sigh when he was done and went to check up on his food. Taehyung rolled up his sleeves and held his metal chopsticks, moving the food around to make sure that it was evenly heated. He took a bite from the spicy rice cake to make sure that it tasted good and warm enough to be served. A satisfied hum rang through the silent air in the kitchen, as Taehyung turned off the fire under the dish.

"Oh, what's this?" Taehyung almost dropped the food from his hands due to Wheein's sudden appearance. He didn't notice her until she spoke up. He placed the dish on the table, making sure that there was a heat-absorbing matt below it. "It smells really nice."

"You never tried this?" he asked after he made her sit down on one of the seats. He sat down in front of her and picked up his chopsticks. "Do you know how to use these or?" Taehyung tapped his chopsticks together when he asked her, leaning a bit forward in curiosity. He never met someone who was so clueless on how to live, especially when they look like they have an Asian ethnicity. The thought of mermaids actually existing didn't process through his mind yet.

"Nope, not yet." Wheein shook her head at both of his questions with a small frown on her face. It was probably embarrassing that she didn't know the simplest of stuff, but you couldn't blame her. She lived underwater for decades.

She picked up her chopsticks and tried to mimic the way Taehyung was holding his. Unfortunately, she failed on doing so. 'How can they even eat with these?' she thought to herself while trying over and over again.

"Do you want me to teach you? It's quite easy when you get a hang of it." he offered and held the pair of chopsticks together beside each other. "Just follow what I'm telling you, okay?"

Taehyung had to admit that Wheein was a quick learner. She already knows how to eat with chopsticks even though her skills were quite rusty at that. That made him silently take a note of mermaids being extremely quick learners. 'Oh! I should get a journal or something to take down notes...' he thought to himself and took another bite of his food.

"You're a fast learner, right?" he spoke up while pointing with his own chopsticks at her hand. Wheein nodded her head at him a bit enthusiastically and took another bite.

"Actually, each mermaid has a distinct talent or ability. Mine is being a quick learner and a good critical thinker. Also, this is so good! I never tried such food before in my life. We tend to eat a lot of seafood, and having to eat them for decades became really boring." she hummed in thought while stuffing her face with spicy rice cake. Her eating was messy; she had the sauce smudged on the corners of her lips.

"That makes sense..." Taehyung nodded and finished his cup of water. "It would taste even better if you had side dishes along with soju, but I... don't have that at the moment." Being financially unstable didn't allow him to eat a lot nor do a lot of things either. Living in a city with little to no money was hard, of course. His thin and fragile state was a result of not eating for days or eating one meal a day. He developed anaemia over time due to malnutrition.

"Ah, that's alright." Wheein reassured him then wiped her hands with a tissue. She raised a her index finger at him, indicating to give her a minute. Her hands were searching in the pockets of sweatpants, and that made Taehyung furrow his eyebrows—in confusion and curiosity.

What were in these pockets that related to the topic they were talking about?

"Give me your hand." Wheein ordered all of a sudden. She had her free hand extended to him while the other one was holding onto something tightly so he won't be able to see what she was hiding.

"Uh, okay?" Taehyung was a bit hesitant, of course.

He extended his clean hand to her and looked up at her through his lashes. Suddenly, her soft hand held his, and Taehyung lost all of his thoughts at that exact second. Wheein opened a window in his train of thoughts that caused all of his thoughts to fly out of it.

He then snapped back to reality when her closed hand was on his then placed something on his palm. Her velvet-like hands left his, showing light blue-green stones all over his hands. They weren't cut or shaped, but instead, they were as you would find them in rocks or oceans. Taehyung couldn't believe what he saw, really. The sizes and colors ranged from all colors, and that made him breathless. He wasn't sure why, though. Was it the fortune that they were going to give him? Or how deeply colored they were just like their home—the sea? Perhaps because they weren't too far off from Wheein's colored eyes.

"These are Aquamarines that I found in my way. Since you have troubles with your money stability, you can sell these as they cost a lot." Wheein explained, her hand rubbing her arm shyly. "Do you like them?"

When Taehyung met her gaze, he felt drawn into her eyes once again. The sky blueness generated a feeling like he was getting pulled to the ocean, as many believed that the ocean reflected the color of the sky. It was like all the various shades of blue swirled together to form a whirlpool of anticipation. Wheein's eyes were a bit red, and Taehyung never noticed that until now. He could tell that Wheein was expecting a great reaction from him, though.

"Of course! I-I mean, this is great! You really didn't have to." Taehyung stuttered and fumbled on his words at first, not knowing what to say. That was another thing he was most definitely grateful for.

"It's alright. We have a lot of these, anyways, so it's not a problem." she shrugged and drank her entire cup of water. "Do you want to sell them now?"

Taehyung's eyes lit up at the thought of that, and his once lonely and dull Christmas days lit up in bright colors.

← α →

He was on the seventh cloud by now. The amount of money they received was unimaginable, and Taehyung was seriously doubting that Wheein was a mermaid. She was more of an angel to him, instead. Things were moving and unfolding quicker than he thought they would to the point he didn't know what exactly he was feeling. Heck, he didn't even know what he felt towards Wheein. If it wasn't for her magic earlier, things would've been clearer. He seemed infatuated by her—they were probably side effects.

The two were a bit awkward with each other, mainly Taehyung. His confusion and constant hesitance spurred a lot of awkward silence between them that none of them knew how to get rid of it. They were 'friends' without knowing anything about each other, so perhaps that's why. Plus, Tae was still suffering from the side effects of her previous luring.

"Do you want to go buy clothes for you?" Taehyung first started when he snapped out of his thoughts and found himself staring at her clothes from the corner of his eyes. As adorable as Wheein looked in his oversized clothings, they weren't suitable to wear when you go outside.

Wheein nodded at him and added, "I was just thinking about that! Do you know any stores that sell nice clothes?" Taehyung gave her a small smile with a nod, thinking of a perfect place to shop.

Myeongdong was known to having a lot of nice clothes especially for girls. The place had all kinds of shops there and it would be the most crowded at night. Seoul was alive and filled the most during the night, as most students finish around ten and people would return from their work at that time too. Of course It would be expensive at times, but the two were basically rich at that point. They could even buy a new house if they sold more of the Aquamarines Wheein had.

And that was where they headed to. The smell of fish-cakes stuffed with red-bean paste filled their noses the second they reached there. It wasn't that crowded, so the duo were able to walk more freely. The space between them was small; their shoulders weren't touching. Wheein's shoulders didn't even reach his due to her small height, which was a bit amusing to him.

There were all kinds of colors and things. From music albums to shoes, the two knew that they would spend all of their money at that exact second if they didn't hold themselves. Taehyung was already craving the fishcake they smelled earlier. He could tell that Wheein was hungry from her longing stares on enormous amount of street food that was there. However, he knew that it was better if she bought new clothes first and changed into them.

It wasn't that hard picking an outfit, as Wheein noticed that Taehyung had a great sense of style. She wasn't picky either. Since it was Winter, Wheein bought the thickest clothes she could find. Once she changed into them in a bathroom nearby, she felt way warmer than before. It was comfortable too, except for the tight black jeans she was wearing. However, it made her feel a bit more confident as she looked like a complete hobo earlier.

"Is it nice?" Wheein asked Taehyung and did random poses to show her outfit properly. Taehyung's low chuckle made Wheein laugh for the first time, and oh God, he heard the Christmas bells ring for the first time in forever. It was so contagious and funny that it made him smile even wider.

"Yeah, it looks great on you." he gave her two thumbs up with a signature smile of his. His eyes crinkled, and Wheein thought that he looked just so cute when he smiled. It felt weird when she thought of him like that, as she felt as if she was a middle-schooler who liked someone. "C'mon. Let's go before it gets more crowded than before."

Wheein ran her fingers through her black hair and nodded, making sure to take all of her stuff before they started walking. The first thing the two did was buy a shit ton of food, literally. Wheein being bored and done with seafood, and Taehyung not eating for days led to them eating quite a lot. It was fun stuffing your mouth with all kinds of food that you never had in a long time.

Wheein was absolutely content with how different Taehyung seemed. He looked so dull and depressed before, and now, she couldn't help but notice how his eyes would slightly light up whenever they talked about something or when he tried new food. She never felt so satisfied and proud of a thing she have done until now. She was glad that she helped him in a way. Wheein didn't know she was going to return the favor of him helping her, so she thought that this was one of the many possible ways. Of course, she had bigger things in mind. After all, they were searching for a lost city.

Just the thought of being on a hunt to find something that was gone for centuries did make Wheein forget about everything and get worried. She already got a lead, but she didn't know how to continue it. Maybe Taehyung was smart enough to help; she could tell that he was extremely smart despite being way younger than him. Nonetheless, having Taehyung as a partner in such journey was a huge step for Wheein.

However, with the intelligence Taehyung possessed and the decades of experience and power Wheein had, there was a chance—hope—that they would find the city. And with so, Wheein wasn't as bothered as she used to be. Instead, she let go all of her worries and continued to sip from her warm, hot chocolate.

Taehyung was sitting in front of her, his free hand was petting and scratching a cat's ear. They ended up at a cat café after all of the shopping they've done. The soft humming and chatter from other people along with the aroma of coffee beans did help Wheein feel more cozy and comfortable in general. The cats meowing and rubbing against her legs made Wheein somewhat attached to the place. She was a foreigner to South Korea despite her Korean looks. She didn't speak the language properly and did a whole lot of mistakes while talking. That was something that Taehyung found abnormally cute.

It was weird how attached he grew to her, and he was glad that they started off on good terms. Otherwise, he wouldn't be smiling and talking with her. Wheein didn't seem like those mermaids he always heard about. If anyone saw the couple, they would've thought that the two perfectly normal people. Yet, little did they know how they were anything but normal.

Taehyung was a suicidal and financially unstable young adult. His thoughts always consisted of pessimism and constant battle with his inner self. The eye bags under his eyes and the lankiness of his body definitely cried out for immediate care and attention. How can a soul-dead person take care of himself when he lost all hope long ago?

Wheein was a mermaid, a woman of the sea. A mythical creature in other words. She had a whole myriad of blues in her eyes that definitely screamed out that she wasn't normal. Wheein could tell the lingering stares at her eyes and that definitely made her more nervous than ever. You never see a blue-eyed Asian. Even if they wore contacts it would be noticeable.

Yet, the two, with all their dark secrets, appeared normal behind the curtains.

Ideas that Increase Home Value and What to Circumvent For Home Improvement & Remodeling Contractor In Greenville NC.

Are you a resident of Florida and have second thoughts of living there more years? Do you have plans of changing your address, again? What would you do with your house and property? If so, No Limit Contracting and Design of Greenville, North Carolina’s remodeling contractor offers some unique home improvement and remodeling ideas that can help increase your home value:

 Affordable and Doable Tips 

There are simple and feasible ideas that any homeowner can do to make small improvements that would grant them higher return percentages than big and expensive remodeling. These renovations can be done without hiring any professional services and may cost a small amount of hundred dollars only.  Although they are low cost, they can make a huge difference in how your property looks in a big way. 

 Tip No.1: Lighting Up

Lighting can impact and improve everything about your house, from its architectural appearance to its color scheme. A quick weekend lighting install could change your entire home. Many people naturally prefer light, airy spaces. A home with an abundance of natural light is typically more welcoming than darker rooms. Light and bright rooms appear larger and emotionally warmer. 

 For lighting inside the house, many prefer everything from a dimmer switch to the increasingly popular sun tubes which enhance a home's appeal. Sun tubes are less expensive than framing in a skylight and can be used as reflective material to funnel natural light from a globe-capped hole cut in a rooftop down through a ceiling fixture and into a room.

 Tip No.2: Clean Up

Simple as it may seem, cleaning your property can give an immediate return on the value of your property. Keeping up your housekeeping as spic-as-span, both inside and out of the house from garbage, dirt, and strange odors is a must.  

 Tip No.3: Fresh Paint 

If you’re ready to sell, it’s a good idea to tone down any loud wall colors or wallpaper choices with neutral paint. This allows potential buyers to more easily imagine what they could do with space.

A word of caution, painting affects lighting and if you are on a tight budget then opt for a black and white palette, it will give your house a modern sophisticated look and you will have the guarantee that you can never go wrong with white or black.

 Tip No.4: Adding a Sprinkler System

Most homeowners have less foresight in financing a lush landscape that can offer a substantial return on investment during the eventual sale of the property since attractive real estate commands a higher price. Adding a sprinkler system that automatically turns on and off, more uniform lawn growth, and superb landscape curb appeal is a good investment. Sprinkler system allows a buyer to keep a lawn looking good without much work.

 Tip No.5: Landscaping Makeover

Landscaping is one of the top three investments that can bring the largest sales returns. Good landscaping can add 10-20 percent to a home’s value. This includes structural features such as lighting, fences, garden paths, fire pits, and ponds. Completely redoing a property by ripping it down to its studs and building it back up with a more modern design and materials can increase the value of a property.

 Tip No.6: Create Curb Appeal

Curb appeal doesn’t just keep you in love with your home. It can also increase the value of your property as much as 12%. Create a memorable first good impression, where buyers would remember and want their home to look good from the outside. A few strategically placed plants, a new mailbox, outdoor lights or shutters can make your property more inviting. Moreover, a grand entrance with a safe and attractive steel front door. Then, if your house needs the shade, consider an awning or overhang above the door.

 Moderate to Costly Tips

Average to high-cost upgrades or remodeling depends on the extent of the renovation done and the materials chosen. These types of updates have the potential to add significant value to your property:

 Tip No.1: Conversions

Before making your conversions, plan carefully and break it down in detail the cost. Conversion involves lofts and basements to garages, attics, and basements, you can create living space in almost any structure.  Some conversions will not repay what you put into them, so be very careful before making the decision.

 Tip No.2: Aged-people/Transient Boarder Room

Modern-day homeowners are making necessary improvements to their home now and those changes will benefit people of all ages, including senior-aged parents. Have an extra room ready for your aging parents, or even possibly you can make use of it for transient boarders, where you can benefit economically in order to pay your monthly bills. Room rentals are just alternative options for an added income.  

 Tip No.3: Extra Buildings

Building an extension is a costly and labor-intensive project that requires architectural considerations as well as electrical consultation, heating, and cooling adjustments, and potential building and zoning permits. Studio-style or single bedroom apartments with small kitchenettes are among the more useful and sought-after building additions, along with detached garages. For sure, extra suites and new spaces can pay off in the long run.

 Tip No.4: Remodel the Kitchen

As per the survey of millennials, a “modern/updated kitchen” topped the list of ideal home features and the most important to more than a third of respondents. The captivation of a large, centralized, and high-tech kitchen holds a lot of effects over first-time homebuyers. This includes a more modern commercialized stainless steel and updated hardware, like modern kitchen faucets and a deep sink.

 Tip No.5: Decks

Family time and spending outdoors in your backyard are much more enjoyable when you have a beautiful, welcoming deck to relax or entertain guests on. A nice deck can make a convincing argument for many first-time homeowners who enjoy the idea of cooking on the grill. Moreover, a well-built wood deck that is looking a bit rough and weathered may only need minor renovation to bring it back to its former glory.

 Special Tip:

Before starting to renovate, make detailed estimates to find out how much the property will be worth after the renovations. After you have the figures for this new value, you need to deduct the price you paid for the home and what you are left with is the maximum price you should spend for the renovation and any soft costs such as holding costs, financing charges, and closing costs if the property will be pending vacant while renovations occur.  

 Summary:

Many ideas do add value to your home by renovating and remodeling your property.By working on these projects,either an affordable and doable projects,or moderate to costly,you sure can enjoy the benefits, which improves your family’s quality of life.

 Whenever you want a free estimate for your residential home improvement, No Limit Contracting and Design of Greenville, NC is ready to serve for any new construction, commercial, custom renovations and remodels in Greenville NC. 

 No Limit Contracting and Design, your Greenville, North Carolina’s Kitchen Remodeling Company also offers remodeling services like whole-house renovation, residential home improvement, window replacement, roofing, siding, bathroom remodeling, and kitchen remodeling.

 Call us now at 252-531-5141 for any services of your kitchen remodeling Greenville, NC, and home addition contractor Greenville, NC, or you can directly contact us  at https://www.nolimitcontractinganddesign.com/contact-us/.For other details and inquiries, please click on our website at https://www.nolimitcontractinganddesign.com.

Amusement Parks On Fire: The indie minstrels of Nottingham

Amusement Parks is Noise Pop / Shoegaze band from Nottingham, UK. We are humbled by their kindness to agree spend some time with Noise Artists for an interview, and slightly star-struck.

The band present themselves very well on Facebook:

Amusement Parks On Fire first came to prominence in 2004 with the release of the eponymous debut album, conceived and consummated by the then-adolescent founder Michael Feerick and phonically actualised on a shoestring. Issued on Geoff Barrow (of Portishead)’s Invada label, it was described by the then-relevant New Musical Express as "hedonistic teenage genius" and saw itself projected onto the planetary meta-retina. A live line-up was essentially preformed and extensively performed with the likes of Dinosaur Jr, The Flaming Lips, M83 and dEUS among innumerable other acts of the era. The unit then retreated to Sigur Rós’ private swimming-pool sanctuary Sundlaugin in Mosfellsbær, Iceland to complete the venturesome sophomore release 'Out Of The Angeles', during which time they experimented with sleep, sustenance and sunlight deprivation at the insistence of V2 Records. After several years of international incidence the band crash-landed in Los Angeles in 2009 to make 'Road Eyes' with producers Michael Patterson (Beck, Nine Inch Nails) and Nicolas Jodoin (Arcade Fire, Black Rebel Motorcycle Club). Again inspired by the locale, the collection was intended as 'a skewed Californian contemporary-classical' with Alternative Press characterising it as "sun-drenched, challenging and gratifying… a near-perfect album". After an 88 month moratorium the band returned in November 2017 with a new single 'Our Goal To Realise' and coinciding UK live performances, followed swiftly in April of this year with the concept EP 'All The New Ends' and a concert tour of mainland Europe. In December, the collective play 3 special UK shows at which they promise to perform material from the next album 'An Archaea' for the first time, alongside deep cuts from their extensive back catalogue.

The current line up is:

Michael Feerick, guitar, vocals

Peter Dale, Drums

Gavin Poole, bass

Rafe Dunn, Guitar

Joe Hardy, keyboards/guitar

Their impressive musical work to date is:

Venosa/Eighty Eight, EP, 2005

Blackout, EP, 2005

Amusement Parks on Fire, LP, 2005

In Flight, EP, 2006

Out of the Angeles, LP, 2006

A Star Is Born, EP, 2007

Young Fight, EP, 2009

Road Eyes, LP, 2010

Our Goal To Realise, EP, 2017

All The New Ends, EP, 2018

This interview is the perfect new year gift to discover or revisit their music while learning more on the band. We hope you enjoy.

What is your music about?

Not to be a spoilsport but I don’t really like attempting to characterize it in any meaningful sense as it only really serves to diminish it and spoil the fun. I guess what I love about music is it’s such an expressive medium, a way of communicating things that can’t be described, so analyzing it on paper is kind of irrelevant and boring. But yeah, it’s mainly about struggling to accept a prescribed reality and being sad about that.

What are your goals as an artist artistically/commerically?

I guess artistically the goal is probably to give the thing you’re working on a reason to exist, to justify adding it to the already overwhelming amount of man-made information in the universe. It’s not always easy to justify that to yourself. I made fun of my issues with that on our song ‘Our Goal To Realise’. The only real commercial goal we have is to break-even on tour. Anything beyond that would be ridiculous to conceive of.

Who would you want as a dream producer, and why?

Hmmm maybe Jim O’Rourke. Way back in like 2004 someone working with us suggested him as a producer but I wasn’t too familiar with his stuff. In the intervening years I’ve become his biggest fan. He’s either made or produced some of the best music I’ve ever heard and yet he seems like a humble, humorous dude, which is to his credit. Maybe the stars will align one day but I’m not holding the phone. Well, I am but only ‘cos I’ve got literally all of his recordings on it. Also, Ken Thomas. We talked to him loads and loads about making a record but couldn’t figure out how to fund it at the time. I’m still really gutted, he’s a lovely chap and seems to really understand us too.

What are you trying to avoid as a band?

Any relevance or commercial success WHATSOEVER. Not really. Well… I’d refer back to a couple of questions ago. I guess we want to avoid making the stuff mundane, stopping before you’ve made something that goes a little further than it could have. We’re trying to avoid leaving the EU too but not having much luck there. Trying to avoid it being too expensive for us to tour in Europe next year.

Explain your songwriting process.

If I could, I would. Actually, I probably wouldn’t. Either way, it’s more of an anti-process. My theory is, if I make no discernible effort at all, the stuff I do do, or do remember, is gonna be legit. That goes some way to explaining why there has been such a gap before this next album. We could have recorded one in 2010 but I don’t see any point in writing for the sake of it or rushing to release a record. It’s got to happen when it wants to happen. Plus, who could be bothered to do anything?

In 2018 there is no new or old music to a 17 year old with internet access. Discuss.

I think I know what you’re getting at. I don’t know if I have any opinion on the way people consume music anymore though. I’ve never thought of music as new or old really. Unless it’s very cynically of a particular time and therefor dates terribly. You can listen to stuff from the 50’s on some good headphones and it sounds like it’s happening in that very moment. That’s the magic of recording I guess. Moreover, I don’t really believe time exists. The concepts of new and old are manufactured notions of no consequence. So, I’m non-plussed.

Why do you make the music you make?

I don’t know why anyone does anything at all. I suppose it’s an exercise in making something intangible in your mind into something subjectively real so yourself and others can appreciate it. Plus, it’s fun.

Describe your palette of sound.

I mean, at the risk of sounding vague again, it’s infinite, isn’t it? If you can imagine it, you can figure out how to make it. If you limit yourself in that respect there’s no point. I spend far less time thinking about guitar tones than i do about structure, melodic arrangement and the like. That’s where the real beauty and intrigue is for me. We are obviously jonesing on guitars most of the time but that’s only because that’s what we have lying around and it’s such a handy songwriting tool.

Which of your albums are you the most proud of? Why?

It’s trite but it would be like choosing which of your kids you’re most proud of. They all came around at different times in your life, under different circumstances. They all drive you irreparably insane and bankrupt you. You love all of them and they are all part of you. I’m just as proud of the JCDX album. I guess I was a kind of sonic sperm-donor on that one, just to rinse this analogy completely.

As a touring band, what do you find the hardest? The best?

These days, just getting everyone in the same place at the same time. The logistics are the only concern. Once we’re in the van, it’s always great. I feel really grateful that venues and promoters are still willing to have us. We went away for quite a while so we’re kind of a risk in some places I imagine. It seems even more special now to show up somewhere far away from home and there are people there to see you, after like FIFTEEN years. Fuck.

You write a good amount of songs in different time signatures, like 7/8, do you set out to write that way or does it come naturally ?

It’s never for the sake of it. It has to occur naturally with the vocal melody and everything. 7 feels pretty natural too. I’ve wondered why we find 4 the easiest to deal with. I imagine there’s a scientific reason for that, human language patterns and stuff. But it seems kind of arbitrary to me!

You’re from Nottingham, has the environment affected your sound?

Absolutely yeah. Maybe not the sound so much as the approach and the attitude towards what we’re doing. There’s a really great, independent scene in Nottingham that isn’t beholden to any one genre. A really healthy amount of bands and artists supporting each other and helping each other out. I’m always blown away when bands from other towns talk of competition with other local bands. That is so alien to me. Plus, it’s right in the middle of the country so you can usually drive home from any show if you have to, which helps a lot.

Find Amusement Parks On Fire here:

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