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#art exhibitions bristol

bristolfineartgallery · 1 year

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Where Is The Art Gallery Exhibitions In Bristol?

Do you know what is abstract? Even if you do not, you must have heard about the word at least once in life. Abstract is something, which is not real and doesn’t exist in any physical form. Mostly, human minds are conditioned to absorb anything and everything that are known to exist. For example, if we see a picture or painting with a mountain scenery, our mind immediately starts stimulating the known elements.

All we want to say is, our brain works faster when we are exposed to something known.

While we can understand most forms of art, but not all our minds will be able to absorb the abstract form of art. Abstract art presented in the various Bristol art gallery exhibitions is perceived as an intense expression of an artist’s emotion in colors, light, dots, lines, and patterns that cannot be interpreted as an obvious gist.

When we look at an abstract form of art, we may not be able to understand it on the first look, but it carries a deep meaning inside of the feelings of the artists. Most of us know the importance of abstract art in modern fine art, but many art lovers still do not understand what abstract art paintings are trying to convey. You must pay attention to such kind of artworks and improve your understanding for artwork.

The art exhibitions in Bristol are waiting for you.

To know more about Bristol art gallery exhibitions please visit the website

#Bristol art gallery exhibitions #art exhibitions Bristol

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garadinervi · 2 months

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Bridget Riley: Paintings And Drawings 1961-1973, Bristol City Art Gallery, Bristol, December 8, 1973 – January 26, 1974

#graphic design #art #op art #drawing #geometry #pattern #exhibition #poster #bridget riley #bristol city art gallery #1970s

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andreahamiltonblog · 1 year

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Garry Fabian Miller

Garry Fabian Miller is best known for his boldly coloured abstract work made in the darkroom without a camera. His practice is characterised by long exposures of between one and fifteen hours, a distinct contrast to the photographic norm of the split-second shutter release. Fabian Miller has mastered the quantities of light needed to achieve nuanced and precise colours. Channelling light through coloured glass and liquid using cut paper forms, Fabian Miller creates luminous alternative realities that flow between pure abstraction and imagined landscapes. Light, time and colour thus become both medium and subject in his work.

These themes are deeply rooted in Fabian Miller’s sense of place as a rural artist and his connection to nature. Walking the surrounding landscape of his Dartmoor studio, absorbing his surroundings before entering the darkroom to begin image-making. The artist becomes the camera, using a language of colour and form developed over 40 years.

Garry Fabian Miller was awarded an honorary fellowship of the Royal Photographic Society in 2017.

➡️ Don’t miss his major exhibition ‘ADORE’ at the Arnolfini beginning next week on 18 of February, celebrating five decades of his work in the context of the artists, writers and thinkers that have inspired him over the years.

➡️ Visit ‘The Sea Horizon’ photography exhibition, starting on 18th of February at the National Museum Cardiff, which explores the importance of identity, borders, and sense of place.

📷

1. Garry Fabian Miller, Blue in Blue, 2009. Water, light, lambda c-print from dye destruction print.

2. Garry Fabian Miller, Beckoning (i) and (ii). Installation from the exhibition HOME at the Royal Albert Memorial Museum, Exeter, 2012.

3. The artist Garry Fabian Miller. Photograph by Philippe Garner.

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artcontests · 2 years

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The Bristol Art Museum - Miniature Monumental - A Juried National Call for Miniature Art

Juror, Patricia Miranda. For centuries, miniature artworks have been created around the world and across cultures dating back to prehistory. These little treasures take many forms, tend to be easily transported and have been created from many materials. Miniatures can be mementoes of loved ones, illuminated manuscripts, paintings, drawings, original prints, etchings, stamps, sculptures, engraved gems, and even carved beads. Unique and distinct among all other arts, the one common rule of thumb for miniature artworks they can be held in the palm of the hand or measure less than 25 square inches in size. The artists’ style when creating miniatures can range from conventional to cutting-edge, limited only by the artist’s creativity.

DEADLINE: December 04, 2022

For more information: https://www.theartlist.com/the-bristol-art-museum-miniature-monumental

#art #art call #art exhibit #Bristol Art Museum #The Bristol Art Museum #Miniature Monumental #Juried National Call for Miniature Art #miniature artworks #TheArtList #Call to Artists

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thegainingdesk · 9 months

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On Again, Off Again

As soon as I saw Mark I was head over heels. He was tall and naturally broad, a frame improved with well-honed muscles from years of manual labour. A mop of thick dark hair framed a broad, almost blocky face with dark brown eyes and a thick moustache, and mirrored tufts of hair poking out from the top of his shirt and at his cuffs. His voice was deep, but soft, with a slight Bristol accent.

He’d suggested we go to a local museum for our first date - I’d mentioned that I did art history at uni when we were talking on tinder, and there was an exhibition on the early impressionists. I spent a while pointing out some of my favourite paintings, explaining some of the techniques, the use of light, how the movement was different to what had come before but quickly noticed how quiet he was being and my initial attraction started to wane.

“Sorry,” he said after I asked him for the umpteenth time if everything was okay. “I don’t mean to- it’s just, I mean…”

I looked at him, expectantly. Despite myself, despite how flat the date was falling, I found myself crushing on him all over again, looking up into those big puppy dog eyes.

“I wanted to impress you a bit,” he said finally, running his hand across his moustache nervously.

I laughed reflexively, and felt awful as I saw him wince. “What do you mean, impress me? You don’t need to impress me.”

“I know, it’s not… You just said that you were into art and stuff, and that you work with this charity and-” He stopped and sighed. “I’m just this knob-head builder, you know? I didn’t think someone like you would really want to go out with someone like me, and I thought you were cute and the lads at the site said I should do something a bit fancy and… I’ve fucked this up, haven’t I?”

I shook my head. “You’re great. Really. I chose to go out with you, didn’t I?” He shrugged those gorgeous hulking shoulders, somehow looking like a scolded schoolboy, despite his size. “Go on, where would you usually take me on a first date, if you weren’t trying to go all fancy on me?”

“No, no, really,” he insisted, unconvincingly. “I’m enjoying myself here.” He pointed at the nearest painting, a Turner painting of a choppy sea, a bright red buoy at the centre. “Go on, tell me about that one.”

I took his hand, and felt my heart flutter as a smile spread across his face. “Seriously, I agreed to go on a date with you because you were a good laugh while we were texting.” A blush spread across his stubbled cheeks. Fuck, he was hot. “Where we going?” I pulled him towards the exit.

“A pub or something, I dunno,” he mumbled. “We can stay, really.”

“Not a chance,” I retorted. “It's your round - you can’t wriggle out of it that easy.”

A couple of drinks in, the date was thoroughly back on track. Mark was funny, charming and charismatic - I’d go so far as to say he was gregarious, but trying to keep up with the way Mark drank turned that into a few too many syllables for me at the time. A few more drinks and we couldn’t keep our hands off each other - looking back, I cringe at the scene we must have made in that pub. Charitably, you could say we were somewhat hidden away in a corner; realistically, it was a Saturday evening in the city center and people were probably gawping.

“I told myself I wouldn’t fuck you tonight,” he grumbled into my ear, while his big square hand pawed at my achingly hard dick. “That I’d wait a couple of dates.”

I was practically gnawing at him at this point, my mouth deep into the soft crevice between his thick, strong neck and his strong, yard-wide shoulders. “This is basically our second date,” I told his neck. “The museum was number one, the pub is number two.”

I heard him laugh into my hair. “I’m serious, I’m trying to break some bad habits. Trying not to have so much casual sex.”

I moaned. “I’ll give you permission to make an exception.”

“I don’t want this to just be sex,” he whispered. “I really like you.”

“It doesn’t have to just be sex,” I whimpered back. “But it could also be sex.”

I heard him - felt him - practically growl. “I suppose if you came back to mine, we wouldn’t necessarily have to have sex.”

I nodded, and lifted my head to look him in the eyes. “Absolutely, no sex.”

The sex was phenomenal. It was like something out of an 80s romance novel. It was animalistic but sensual, passionate but slow. I think I actually swooned. Mark could throw me about like a ragdoll, and he made good use of that ability. His body was covered almost top to toe in dark, wiry hair, and his cock was so thick I could barely get my mouth around it - but by god I gave it a go.

We spent all of the next day together, nursing twin hangovers and cuddling up on his sofa. Mark explained his philosophy that the only worthwhile hangover cure is as much food as you can manage to keep down. While I nibbled on bread and butter and sipped on water all day, there was barely a moment where he didn’t have some food on the go - bacon and egg sandwiches for breakfast, clearing his fridge for lunch, a string on deliveroo drivers.

By the time I felt well-enough to go home, he tried to convince me to call in sick to work the next day. Tangled up with him like that, I almost did. Even so, I managed to drag myself away, with the promise of seeing him on Friday.

We didn’t make it to Friday. We met up for dinner on Tuesday. Lunch on Wendesday. On Thursday I packed a bag and decided I could just go into the office from his flat in the morning. We were inseparable. Insufferable, most likely. But we couldn’t stop ourselves, didn’t want to stop.

The dinners out, the takeaways, the long days spent cuddled up without a thought of the gym started to add up - on Mark at least. And yes, maybe I encouraged that a little, but I’m allowed a type aren’t I? Okay, maybe more than a type - a predilection, if you were being fancy, a full-blown fetish if you were being honest. So I like them big! Is that a crime? I never went overboard - never stirred butter and double cream into all of his portions, never tricked him into gainer shakes, never slipped him appetite enhancers or miraculous weight-gain pills - I’m not the protagonist of a gainer story, after all.

All I did was nurture that healthy appetite of his. Gave him my unfinished portions, asked him if he wanted seconds, encouraged him to get dessert, muttered into his ear that no, he can’t go to the gym and leave me in bed, cold and alone, that I’d give him all the work-out he needed. He never complained, and I never made any real secret that I didn’t mind him putting on some weight.

It was subtle at first. He’d never had any abs to cover up, but there was a general loss of definition - muscular limbs got smoothed out, pecs started to go puffy, his belly started to permanently bow out into a little arc. His body, already big, sailed past 220 pounds easily enough, and you could barely tell that he’d put on any weight at all, not really, until he’d hit 240 or so.

But then, my god. It’s like some magical fat threshold was reached, almost overnight, like all the gaps in his body had been filled with fat, his whole body lightly covered with a thin sheen of chub, ready for the real work to build up over it. Smooth limbs got soft, puffy pecs drooped, his little distended belly curved out in all directions to form a proper little pot belly. Not six months into our relationship, he was sitting fat and happy at 260 pounds, a firm ball gut at his center, and all traces of that muscular hunk that tried to impress me at a museum were buried under soft, gorgeous flab. If he ever got self-conscious, he never said anything. Still, I told him how gorgeous he was, how sexy the extra weight made him, how he looked more manly, more mature.

We settled into a routine; huge dinners, hot sex, movie nights spent cradling his growing gut, an occasional date night at some new restaurant before moving onto a pub or a bar. We spent so much time at each other’s flats we both assumed we’d move in together sooner rather than later, that this would all last forever.

“Australia?” I asked, my voice shaking.

“I know, I know,” he said, pacing and stroking his moustache nervously. “But the money’s so good, I can’t really pass it up.” I closed my eyes. Gripped the table. Tried to wish it away. “It wouldn’t be forever,” he said, lamely.

“It would be for a year though,” I whispered, opening my eyes.

He slumped down into the chair opposite me. One hand continued to stroke his moustache, the other sat on the shelf of his belly, stroking it ever so slightly. Even while I was distraught he could still drive me wild without even trying. “I’m sorry,” he said simply after a while. I knew there wasn’t any point arguing. That I wouldn’t want to stop him taking the opportunity. It just hurt.

We agreed we’d not wait for each other. We’d stay in touch, but we’d be free to date, and if either of us met someone over the year, or if we’d changed as people, no obligation to go back to how we were.

I spent a full week moping. I became a walking cliche - I barely ate, I barely slept. I sustained myself on a diet of Carole King songs and Richard Curtis films. Mark never had any social media - barely used his phone for anything really - a fact which I was, in turns, thankful for and furious about. On one hand, at least I couldn’t obsessively stalk his profiles all year while I missed him, on the other hand, I couldn’t even stalk his profiles all year while I missed him.

I still can’t decide if that year went fast or slow. There were points when it felt like I was going through the same old bored routines for decades, and days when I’d realise how soon I could see Mark again and it would feel like seconds. I did my best to get on with my life - I met with friends, picked up hobbies I’d let fall to the side while I spent every day with Mark, even plucked up the courage to go on a date. It was nice. He was nice. But it wasn’t Mark. I’m not even sure I could tell you his name. After that, I resigned myself to waiting.

I’m back! The text said. My heart fluttered. Want to meet up for a drink?

I tried to not reply immediately. Wanted to come across as cool and unbothered.

Amazing!!! I replied, not two minutes later. Yes! Where?

As a cucumber.

The Goose? Or maybe your flat? Up to you.

My heart pounded. Meeting at my flat was not the act of an uninterested man. Meeting at my flat was not the act of a man who’d fallen in love with some gorgeous Australian surfer.

My flat’s fine! I responded.

Great. I’ll be like an hour?

My flat was already impeccably clean - I was a bit of a clean freak as it was, but I had it practically sparkling in anticipation of Mark’s return to the northern hemisphere - but still, I busied myself cleaning every nook and cranny. I hoovered my spotless carpet, smoothed my immaculately smooth bed, dusted corners that I previously didn’t know existed.

I had just decided that the flat was too unnaturally clean, like I’d gone out of my way to clean it for Mark or something, and was in the middle of pulling various items just slightly out of position, when my doorbell rang. I yelped, and hurriedly crumpled a throw blanket, before breathing slowly and making my way to the door. It was just Mark, I told myself. Everything would be just the same as it was before. It’s just Mark. It’s just Mark.

I opened the door to a man I barely recognised. Mark was buff. Beyond buff. The fat I’d so deviously piled on him over all those months had disappeared without a trace. He’d not simply returned to the naturally broad, built figure he’d had when I’d first met him, either - he’d added hard, shredded muscle - at a guess I’d say 20 pounds easy. His face was thinner, sharper; his arms were vascular, and I could swear I saw the stitches on his sleeves almost pulling themselves apart; when he raised his arms and his t-shirt rode up, I could make out a defined six-pack even through his dense pelt of body hair. Worst of all though - he’d shaved off his moustache.

I just stood blinking for a while, until I realised that tears were welling up in my eyes. Despite it all, despite the time, despite the body, despite the fucking moustache - it was Mark. It was really, actually, fucking Mark.

Neither of us said anything, he just stepped through my door, held my face in his hands and kissed me, deeply and desperately and hungrily. We stumbled backwards through my flat, knocking perfectly placed objects as we went, pulling at each other’s clothes, never once stopping kissing, until he picked me up and tossed me onto my bed. This time, I definitely swooned.

We didn’t properly talk until the next morning, while I lay with my head on his chest, my fingers lazily pulling through the curls of his chest hair. “Go on then,” I said. “What’s all this?”

Mark yawned. “What’s what?” he asked.

I lightly slapped his six-pack. “Who invited He-Man over here?”

He laughed. “I bet you had a thing for He-Man didn’t you?” he said, running a hand down my back and squeezing my bum, avoiding the question.

“No really,” I insisted. “What happened to my sexy teddy bear I sent off?” I steeled myself. “I bet it was for all those sexy ozzy men, eh?” I forced myself to laugh.

Mark was silent, and didn’t move.

I held my breath. “It’s fine, you know. We said. Date whoever.”

He shook his head. “No,” he said simply, after a while. “I umm… couldn’t bring myself to. That’s why I spent so much time in the gym actually. To take my mind off of…” He trailed off. “Did you? You know…”

“One guy,” I said. “Just a date, you know, nothing…" I added quickly, keen to reassure him. "It was awful.” I sighed. “No, it was probably fine, it just wasn’t…” I looked over at him, took in his chiseled jawline and perfect cheekbones. “It wasn’t you.” We stayed like that for a while, just smiling at each other. I shuffled up his body to kiss him, and rolled over. “I might have to change my stance on that if you don’t grow your moustache back though.”

We were back to our old routine almost immediately, illicit feedings and all. By the time Mark had regrown his moustache, his abs had been hidden by soft fat and he was on his way back to the Mark I knew and loved. It’s like his body missed the fat - it piled on faster than it had the first time, and within a few months he’d put on all his lost weight, plus extra. His newfound muscles clearly faded a little, being neglected so thoroughly by time spent away from the gym, but they provided a firm base for all the fat to cling to, so that all his fat was perkier and bouncier than last time - I was in heaven.

“I need to lose some weight,” Mark murmured around one of his breakfast donuts one morning. I looked over to see him trying to tug a pair of scruffy work jeans closed, but there were several inches of soft fat between the button and its hole. I inhaled and set my shoulders - it was time to bite the bullet.

“I don’t think you need to lose weight,” I started, nonchalantly.

Mark laughed and shook his gut. I fought to stop myself from getting hard. “Look at me - I’m 20 stone and can’t fit into 40 inch trousers. 40 inches! I need to lose weight,” he repeated.

I stood up and walked over to him, putting a hand on each side of his middle. “I like it,” I told him matter of factly, before kissing him.

He smiled and returned my kiss. “You’re sweet, and I know that you’ll love me no matter what size I am, yada-yada-yada, but come on,” he slapped his belly again. “This is getting ridiculous.”

I shook my head. “No,” I said. “I like it. I…” I inhaled deeply. “I prefer it. Actively prefer you fat, actually.”

He stared at me and blinked, not speaking for almost a whole minute. “You… like me fat?” he asked, finally.

I nodded. "Mm-hmm," I said, as casually as I could pretend to be.

He squinted his eyes at me. “Fatter?” he continued.

“I… wouldn’t complain,” I said slowly, studying his face.

He took a few steps away from me and looked down at himself, as if seeing his body for the first time. He hefted his gut a couple of times, almost experimentally. His hands drifted upwards, squeezed his soft pecs. I just watched, knowing he needed some space. Finally, he raised his head to look at me. “Why?” he asked simply.

I shrugged. “Why is anyone attracted to anything, you know? Big guys have always just done it for me, I guess,” I explained. He carried on looking at me inquisitively, clearly expecting me to continue. “I mean… it just seems more manly, you know? Like you’re tall and you’re hairy and you’ve got this great moustache and hot face, and being bigger is just one more thing that just makes you even more masculine, you know?” He nodded and I saw him subtly flex, as if in admiration of himself. “So you’re okay?” I asked.

He nodded. “I mean, if it means I don’t have to diet or go to the gym, why not?” he laughed, and carried on getting ready for work. “You might need to pop out today to buy me some new clothes though,” he added.

I nodded and smiled, happy that inevitable, awkward conversation went as well as could I could realistically hope. I started to get set up for my day working from home, and brought Mark a donut as he was about to leave, kissing him on the cheek as I passed it over.

His eyes narrowed, and he looked carefully at the donut. “Did you do this Ben?” he asked, after a moment or two.

“What?” I asked. “Yes Mark, I brought you the donut. Are you okay?”

He shook his head. “No. Not the donut. Me. Did you make me fat?”

I swallowed. Hard. “What? Mark. How could I make you fat? I can’t eat for you,” I pointed out.

“No,” he agreed. “But I put on weight almost as soon as I met you. You’ve always given me half of your dinner, told me to get dessert, stopped me going to the gym.”

“Mark, you can’t seriously be accusing me of manipulating you into gaining weight,” I told him, feeling myself shake a little. "You have a big appetite." Was I trying to convince him, or myself?

“But did you?” he pressed.

I paused just a little too long and he sighed, burying his face in his hands. “It’s not like I forced you to eat anything!” I protested. “You enjoyed the food, you wanted it, you never cared about putting on weight, never enjoyed the gym. I just tried to give you permission to let yourself go a bit.”

“But you didn’t Ben!” he snapped. “You didn’t give me permission because never had a choice!”

“Mark, come on,” I reached towards him, but he knocked my hands away. “I’m sorry for being sneaky, but that’s all it was - a bit sneaky. I never lied, I never convinced you to do anything you didn’t want to, I just made the choice a bit easier.”

He opened the door. “I’m going to stay at my parents for a bit,” he said.

“Mark, no,” I pleaded.

“I just… I just need some time to think.” He moved through the door.

“Please Mark, I love you.”

He sighed. “I love you too,” he said. “It’s just a lot.”

The door closed. The day was a write-off. I spent the whole day cleaning and tidying, scrubbing floors and counters and remaking my bed. I thankfully didn’t have any meetings, and the only work I needed to do was busy-body work that no-one would notice was getting done badly. I fell back into old routines - didn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, Carole King, Richard Curtis.

Staying at his parents “for a bit” meant a couple of weeks, as it turned out. I was mid-Notting Hill when I heard the door open and I turned to see Mark walk in, an old band t-shirt riding up to reveal the bottom of his gut. I rushed over to him, but stopped before I reached him, unsure of what was about to happen. He closed the distance and pulled me into a hug. I melted into him, and we stayed like that for a few minutes, just holding each other.

“I’m sorry,” I said eventually.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I overreacted. I… freaked out.” He scratched his gut. “You were right. It could have happened in any relationship, I just…” He closed his eyes. “I’ve been fit for a really long time, you know, and I’ve never done a proper relationship, and I always felt like people just use me for sex and all of a sudden I find out that you’re a big part of why I’ve put on so much weight and it just felt like… Like you were changing me.”

I shook my head and hugged him again. “I’m so sorry,” I said into his shoulder. “I didn’t want you to change. You’re exactly what I want, any weight, I promise.”

He hugged me back. “I want to change for you,” he murmured into my hair. He pulled away and held my shoulders, smiling. “I spent a lot of time trying to figure stuff out and… you're right. It’s hot.” He slapped his gut. “I get it, I think. I like being big and I like eating and I like that you like it.” I must have looked skeptical because he carried on. “Okay, I’m not, like, thrilled with putting on quite so much, but I also don’t care enough to lose you over it, and I can see where you’re coming from.” I didn’t know what to say, so just kissed him, running my hands under his t-shirt and up his love handles. He pulled away. “I want you to get fat as well though,” he said, matter-of-factly.

“What?” I asked, dumbfounded.

“I think you should put on weight as well,” he said again. “To see what it’s like.”

“Mark, I… I thought you’d forgiven me. I said I was sorry.,” I said.

“I’m not saying it as some kind of punishment or whatever,” he said, and patted my own flat stomach. “I’m saying that I think you’ll like it. That I’ll like it.”

“I think you might be confused,” I told him. “I don’t want to gain weight,” I explained. “I just like fat guys. It’s a different thing.”

“Okay,” he said. “But I didn’t want to gain weight either, and it turns out I kind of like it.” He squeezed his gut for emphasis. “You already like all this stuff, and I just think you owe it to yourself to see whether you like all the aspects of it.”

“Really?” I asked. “You want this?”

Mark shrugged. “Why not? Maybe it’ll be hot, and if you don’t like the first twenty pounds, you can lose it all faster than I’ll be able to lose all this.” He slapped his gut and sent it shaking.

“I uh… okay,” I agreed. “Yeah, I’ll try it out.”

The changes to our classic routine were unsettling at first. No more subtly suggesting dessert or quietly giving extra portions, now Mark would quite happily take seconds and snack throughout the day. He also made sure he wasn’t alone though - everything he ate, he would make me match, to the point that most days I’d end the day cradling my too full stomach while he gently rubbed it for me. Being more open about my preferences meant that we could start introducing food into the bedroom as well - sex now meant ice cream and chocolate and whole-cakes, all eaten off each other’s bodies or while Mark was deep inside of me.

While Mark’s gains kept up a good pace, especially for a man his size, the weight hit my body like a freight train. Without the base of muscle that Mark had, my gains were much softer, and spread across my body as opposed to Mark’s firm core ball gut and fat covered muscles. I found myself loving it - I'd get distracted by the way my flesh would slide past itself, the gentle restriction of clothes just on the verge of being too tight, and the pillowy softness of my body. I would find myself in work-meetings slipping a finger between shirt buttons to stroke around my navel, and it became one of Mark’s favourite jokes to point out when I’d mindlessly pull my shirt up while at home so I could play with my underbelly.

"You not going to lose too much weight while I'm gone, big guy?" Mark asked, kissing me on the cheek as he hoisted his bag on his shoulder.

I swallowed the last of the custard slice I was eating. "You're only going for a week," I pointed out. "Besides, you've managed to put nearly a hundred pounds on me in less than a year, I don't think I'm likely to stop losing weight anytime soon."

"Oh, I see," Mark said laughing. "It's me who put all that weight on you is it? You didn't have anything to do with it?"

"I should be more worried about you!" I said, changing the subject. "Going with all those skinny twigs - they're hardly going to make sure you're eating right."

He gripped his gut with both hands and lifted it. "It's a stag do," he said simply. "My diet's going to consist of beer and kebabs. I don't think you have to worry."

I kissed him goodbye, our guts melding into one another, and he left to get his taxi. I made my mind up to give him something special to come back to - as much weight as I could conceivably gain in the week he was away. I was sure I could put on five pounds (we both did that easily in the week between last Christmas and New Years), but how much more could I do?

Me and Mark were both used to four enormous meals as standard by now, so I added multiple tubs of ice cream and gainer shakes each day on top, to really kickstart my growth. I spent the next week bloated, groggy and uncomfortable - it was one of the hottest things I've ever done.

By the time Mark was back, I'd managed to push eleven more pounds onto my body, bringing me up to a cool 267 pounds. He walked into me lying prone on the sofa, shirt off, fresh stretch marks covering my gut, melted ice cream dripping onto soft moobs. I struggled to sit up to greet him, burping through a smile.

"Uhh, hi," he said, not moving from the doorway. His gaze hovered somewhere over my head.

"How was Berlin?" I asked, finally managing to sit up with a soft "ooft".

"Yeah it was…" he trailed off. "You know, fun. Good to see the lads." Still by the doorway. Still no eye contact.

"Is everything okay?" I asked, the ice cream sitting less comfortably in my stomach by the second.

"Yeah, no, it was just…" He finally moved away from the doorway, pacing around the room, eyes looking at everything except my expanded form. "They kept on taking the piss out of me," he said eventually. "You know, for being so fat."

"Right…" I said slowly. "But you're… you're okay with that, right?" I stood up with some effort and moved towards him. He moved towards the kitchen, still not meeting my eyes. "You've said you find it hot?" I felt self-conscious now, and looked around for a t-shirt I could put on.

He sighed, and finally looked at me. "Maybe not everything has to be hot," he said simply. "Like, yeah, it's great for sex but… Christ Ben, I'm over 24 stone now! Look at me!" He gestured down to his body, swollen with fat in every direction. "Every fucking day was just me trailing behind everyone else, completely out of breath, putting up with fucking jokes every other minute about my double chin and moobs and rolls-"

"Okay, your mates are arseholes!" I said. "Does that matter? Your workmates make jokes like that all the time."

"It's not my mates!" His voice was growing louder. "They're right! We've- I've-" He sighed and rubbed his face, his double chin moulding under his fingers. "We've taken it too far." He looked at me in the eyes. "This," he gestured down at himself and looked guiltily at me, "isn't just 'being a big guy' anymore. It's really, properly fat."

We tried to avoid talking about it for a few days. Then talked about dieting, going to the gym, building muscle, what weight might be a good compromise. Every conversation turned into an argument. Every meal, every shopping list.

I'd gotten so used to over-eating that I'd sneak off in the middle of the night or when he was at work to gorge. The couple of times he caught me turning into raging arguments. The times I caught him doing the same weren't much better.

Three weeks later, he'd packed his bags and gone to his parents. Whereas in the past I'd have stopped eating, I'd now fundamentally rewired my brain. Comfort eating was now de rigueur and every day seemed to overshadow the last. My snacks would have left a grown man satisfied, my meals turned into feasts, ice cream filled the time between like it filled in gaps in my stomach.

I ballooned. My tits drooped, my stomach swelled, my thighs chafed. I was grateful my job was mainly work-from-home, since my old clothes became restrictive to the point of pain. Buying clothes became a matter of adding the biggest size available to my cart and hoping for the best, waiting for the day I had to move to big-and-tall shops. Whenever I did have to go into the office, button-ups strained, my belt dug in, ties became comedically short. I saw my coworkers talking to each other, jokingly at first, then with concern. How could they not? I took up twice the space that I had done not long before, my face was round and jowly and soft. HR sent an email asking if I'd like a stronger chair. Emails were sent round reminding people about the gym memberships that the company offered, ostensibly office-wide, but I knew who they were targeted at.

When I reached 325 pounds I realised I almost weighed as much as Mark had when he left. Would I celebrate, I wondered, once I passed that milestone? Eat a cake to myself? Would that even register at this point?

I heard the door open and close, and I twisted around as best as I could. My flexibility had reached a critical point - now every action came with resistance, as fat bunched against fat and stretched around the sheer bulk of me. I looked around desperately at the mess around me, the ice cream cartons, cake boxes, tubs of cake frosting eaten straight.

"Ben?" Mark asked. I stood up as quickly as I could, tried to pull down my t-shirt so it covered the rest of my gut, did my best to button my shorts. I felt his hands on my arms before I even had a chance to get a good look at him. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

I looked up, finally. "You've lost weight," I said. It was true. His gut, his double chin, his tits, all were still there, big, but diminished.

He chuckled. "The lads at the site still call me a fat bastard," he said and shook his belly. It was true, I supposed - by anyone else's standards he was still obese. "You, erm, haven't," he added, quietly. "Lost weight, I mean."

I felt huge. Disgusting. "I can lose it," I promised, tears welling up in my eyes. "I just missed you so much and-"

"No," Mark said.

"No?" I asked.

"No," he repeated. "I don't need you to lose weight, I don't need…" He sighed. "I thought I needed to get fit again. Lose all the weight. I started going to the gym, dieting. Started seeing results. Got down to two-sixty."

I peered at him. "You're not…" I began.

"No, I'm about two-eighty now. Probably a bit more," he answered my unspoken question. "I realised being smaller wasn't making me happy. Once I stopped dieting, the weight piled back on." He ran a finger across his moustache and looked around nervously. "Then I realised the reason I wasn't happy was because I wasn't with you." I noticed for the first time that he was holding back tears.

I moved towards him and help him for a while. He gripped me tight, his strong arms sinking into my soft back.

A while later, we were sat at the table, a chinese takeaway in front of us - a small attempt at normality.

"So," Mark said, looking at me sideways and speaking slowly, as if to test the waters. "What are you weighing at these days?" he asked.

I sucked air through my teeth. I knew this was coming. I wasn't upset as such - by this point, our relationship was defined by fat. It was a shock though, him coming back having lost so much weight, me having put on so much. "Three-two-five," I said, as calmly as I could. "Well, a couple of weeks ago at least."

Mark whistled and reached over to slide a hand across my belly, as if in admiration. "God, did you ever imagine you'd be the bigger one in the relationship?" he asked. I felt my face go red, and I started to stammer a response. "I've got to be honest," he continued. "I'm pretty jealous."

I choked. "Jealous?" I managed to spit out. "Of being this big?"

He sighed wistfully. "I've always been a big guy, you know? And then when I started going out with you I got used to being the biggest guy in most situations. And I definitely never thought I'd be smaller than you."

I smirked. "Fancy changing that?"

He chuckled. "Just you wait," he said. "I'll be the bigger one again in no time."

I grinned and picked up a rib. "Good," I said. "No man of mine is going to be under three hundred. You'll have to hurry up and catch me though," I told him. "I'm going to be a moving target."

He smiled. "Sounds great." He spooned some food onto his plate. "See you at three hundred and fifty pounds?" he teased.

I grinned. "At least."

#gaining fiction #weight gain story #weight gain #gainer fiction #gainer story #on again off again #no one other than me will ever find it funny that he took him to an impressionist exhibition to impress a date and I'm at peace with that

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rehsgalleries · 8 months

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Frank Bernard Dicksee

(1853–1928)

La Belle Dame Sans Merci

Oil on canvas

52 x 74 inches

Signed

Exhibited: Royal Academy, 1902

Bristol Museum & Art Gallery

#frank dicksee #pre raphaelite #pre raphaelism #19th century academic art #british artist #horse #knight in shining armor #academic art #british victorian art #art #arte #painting #fine art #fineart #work of art #art work #19th century art #figurative art

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mybeingthere · 2 months

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Rosie Snell was born in Sussex in 1971. She completed her Masters in 1995 at the Norwich School of Art with the help of an award from the Elizabeth Greenshields Foundation. In 1997 she moved to London to take up a residency with the Florence Trust Studios. She quickly established her work with The Paton Gallery, having her first solo show that year. Her work was published in Saatchi’s New Neurotic Realists the following year. In 1999 she was awarded the Berwick Gymnasium Fellowship and her work was published in Young British Art: The Saatchi Decade. She has since exhibited in London, Milan, Norwich, Bristol and Berwick. Her work is featured in many collections and publications. She is a Senior Lecturer at Bath Spa University.

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dansedan · 8 months

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PWYW EVERYTHING MUST GO STUDIO SALE BECAUSE I LIVE IN A TINY APT AND I DO NOT HAVE SPACE FOR MY WORK

DETAILS TO KEEP IN MIND:

I am based in the USA and shipping costs are going to be based on that location.

measurements are eyeballed for now, sorry :^( They're packed up very precariously and I don't have the info from before because adhd brain

some pieces are stretched, some are unstretched, some are on paper, some are on panel. If you prefer I flat-ship something to you, or do the inverse and ship a painting currently stretched as a roll, let me know.

You will pay for shipping so feel free to make any specification you want about it within reason. I'm going to default to USPS but if you would genuinely pay art shipping prices I'll do my best to do that!

A low offer that you can pay me is better than no offer, I promise. Just don't be a dick about it if you can in fact afford a little more.

Unstretched canvas, roughly 2x3 feet

Blick brand wooden panel, probably 8x10in

recycled wood so fairly hefty. Something like 3x3ft

paper, something like 40x30in (standard poster board size)

bristol board, a little over standard Letter size (maybe A4?)

paper, a little over poster board size. probably 3x4ft?

flat canvas board. Probably also A4 size

bristol board, ~40x30in again

unstretched canvas, ~4x6ft?

If there's any piece of mine you're interested in that's not on this list...

it might be a piece I still want to exhibit

it might be a piece that lives back in Panama (in which case, DM me about it and I can attempt to sort out the more complicated shipping from there anyhow!)

it might be a print and not a painting-- I am working on getting a permanent shop up and running for my prints !

So, HOW do you get your piece of art???

Just DM me here on tumblr, or through my art instagram @DGatenoArtist with the painting you want and how much you want to offer (+ details about where to ship and how)

I'll figure out a shipping estimate for you and send you an invoice document, if you approve of the total price you send in your payment and then I'll ship it out!

#my art #pro wrestling #contemporary art #contemporary painting #support local artists #support small artists #support small business #art shop #artist support #painting

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themuseumwithoutwalls · 4 months

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MWW Artwork of the Day (1/7/23) Edgar Degas (French, 1834-1917) The Rehearsal Onstage (c. 1874) Pastel over brush-and-ink drawing on thin cream-colored wove paper, laid down on bristol board and mounted on canvas, 53.3 x 72.4 cm. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York (H.O. Havemeyer Collection)

There are three similar versions of this composition. The largest, painted in grisaille (Musée d'Orsay, Paris), was shown in the first Impressionist exhibition, in 1874. The two other works, tentatively dated the same year, are in the Metropolitan's collection. Of the two versions of this composition in the Metropolitan's collection, this one is probably the second. Like "The Rehearsal of the Ballet Onstage", it was executed over an ink drawing on paper.

#french artist #impressionism

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kolajmag · 6 months

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COLLAGE ON VIEW

Paint Outs, Cut Outs, Tear Up Erasures

Daniel Lehan at the Bower Ashton Library in Bristol, United Kingdom through 5 December 2023. Working with erasures, Daniel Lehan is taken with the idea and process of absence, the absence of something that was. A challenge is to create texts which alter the sense and meaning, even the subject, of the source material. One he has in mind is–to take, say, a car manual and create from this a love story. This exhibition includes erased books: A Guide to the National Gallery, a Royal Society for the Protection of Birds book of birds, several guidebooks, Ladybird books–erased photographs and French texts, typewriter erasures, and an erasure of the Holy Communion Service. The Nose by Nikolai Gogol has been “totally” erased with each and every word cut from this short work, and each one placed in a box, with the invitation to then re-use these words to create a new text. Read More

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Kolaj Magazine, a full color, print magazine, exists to show how the world of collage is rich, layered, and thick with complexity. By remixing history and culture, collage artists forge new thinking. To understand collage is to reshape one's thinking of art history and redefine the canon of visual culture that informs the present.

SUBSCRIBE | CURRENT ISSUE | GET A COPY

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bristolfineartgallery · 1 year

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Online Art Gallery Exhibitions In Bristol

There is no denying that art has been an integral part of human existence to express the bundles of emotions and feelings. The art galleries are home to some of the stunning artwork we humans have created so far. Some art work speaks about the rich history and heritage of human culture and some talk about the future. You get to observe the untold stories of mankind and traverse in the fantasy world just by observing an artwork closely. That is why, art galleries play a crucial role in preserving and displaying such rare artworks.

The real purpose of Bristol art gallery exhibitions are that these spaces foster the spirit and culture of the artistic community while also encouraging them and addressing various societal issues. Artwork is valued only when it is presented in front of the interested audience. An art gallery is a platform of communication between the artists and the general public. That said, our Bristol art gallery exhibitions will continue to be a vital part to the society as they hold the power to showcase the entire world and the worldliness in a nutshell with great depth.

These art galleries have been playing their major role in reflecting and shaping our society. While visiting an art gallery is very subjective decision and experience, the scale of inclination will also differ and depends on how and what the artwork will provoke in them.

If you love visiting Bristol art gallery exhibitions, you can reach out to us.

To know more about art exhibitions bristol please visit the website

#art exhibitions bristol

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lettersfromadreamgirl · 1 year

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Victoria Art Gallery, Bath – Peter Brown: Bath, Bristol and Beyond Exhibition

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downthetubes · 17 days

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Lawless Comic Con set to host “Best of Britain” comic art exhibition- and it looks incredible

Lawless Comic Con in Bristol next month, not only has an amazing guest lineup, you Don want to miss an incredible “Best of Britain” exhibition of original comic art, either, curated by artist and author David Roach

View On WordPress

#2000AD #Comic Art #David Roach #Exhibition News #John M Burns #Lawless Comic Con #Massimo Belardinelli #Ron Embleton

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rabbitcruiser · 22 days

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World Art Day

Expressing emotions through colors and shapes, art captures the essence of life, sparking emotions and fostering connection without words.

Art has the power to not only bring beauty and light into a world that can often be dark, but it also can make a difference by giving a voice to political movements and social change. World Art Day is here to show appreciation for and celebrate those who have made art contributions to the world, as well as the everyday artist that can be alive in all humans!

History of World Art Day

The background of World Art Day can be traced back to its founding organization, the International Association of Art (IAA), which began in 1954. The IAA got its start as a partnership agency through the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) for the purpose of learning about artistic freedoms as well as associating artists together with UNESCO’s work.

The first World Art Day was celebrated in 2012 when it was started by the IAA with the idea of promoting awareness about creative activity all over the globe. The idea for the day was approved by more than 150 artists as well as all of the national committees of the IAA organization. And because of this connection, World Art Day continues to be supported and promoted by UNESCO.

World Art Day seeks to raise awareness about and honor the contributions that various artists have made throughout the world, while promoting the importance of art in the lives of each and every human. In addition, the organizers of the day hope that it will pique interest about the importance of art, encouraging art education as a path toward inclusive and equitable education.

The planet is filled with amazing humans who have created and will continue to create all sorts of incredible works of art. World Art Day is here to showcase that art, show appreciation for it, and encourage others to get involved with creating it!

World Art Day Timeline

1503-1506

The Mona Lisa is painted

Leonardo da Vinci is living in Florence, Italy, where he creates this famous painting that now hangs in the Louvre Museum in Paris.

1624-1625

Rembrandt creates his first painting

The famous portrait painter finishes his first paintings while he is still a teenager.

1886

Seurat finishes his important work

The founder of pointillism, French artist Georges Seurat finishes his neo-impressionist work, A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte.

1997

Banksy begins graffiti art in England

The mysterious artist known as Banksy begins their anonymous graffiti art work starting in Bristol.

2012

Inaugural World Art Day is celebrated

The International Association of Art establishes World Art Day to celebrate the diversity and the role that art plays in the lives of humans and culture.

How to Celebrate World Art Day

Whether a novice or a professional, a creator or an appreciator, World Art Day offers all sorts of opportunities for people from all walks of life to join in and get involved in the celebration. Check out some of these ideas and activities to get started participating in honor of this day:

Visit an Art Museum

In honor and celebration of World Art Day, an excellent activity would be to visit a local museum that houses various pieces of art from local artists as well as from around the world. Paintings, sculptures, photography and so much more can be found in art museums, which often carry special short-term exhibits that travel and offer access to more people. And don’t forget to include the children in a visit to the art museum. The younger children are when they are exposed to fine art, the better!

Those who want to get serious about seeing some of the world’s finest art can do so by making a trip to one of the major art museums in the world where pieces by some of the most famous artists can be found. Book some travel tickets and check out one (or all!) of these high end art museums in celebration of World Art Day:

The Louvre Museum in Paris, France. Here it is possible to take a look at Da Vinci’s Mona Lisa (yes, it’s small) and the ancient Venus de Milo.

The Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City, New York, USA. Van Gogh’s Starry Night lives here along with Da Vinci’s Last Supper.

The National Gallery in London, United Kingdom. Get an up close look at Van Gogh’s Vase With Fifteen Sunflowers and Botticelli’s Mars and Venus.

Accademia Gallery in Florence, Italy. While this museum may not be as filled as others, people flock here to see Michelangelo’s statue of David.

Create Some Art

One of the best ways to get involved with World Art Day would be to get creative by making some art! Whether it’s a stick figure sketch or something resembling a Picasso, art is valuable no matter who makes it or how it is made. But in honor of this day, perhaps it would be a good idea to try out a new style of art, perhaps trying some watercolor painting, sculpting or charcoal drawings.

In fact, to improve those art skills, it might be fun to consider signing up for a class in a style of art that’s new. Pottery making, textile arts, or even photography can be fun ways to get involved with celebrating this important day, whether through a community college or a local artist who likes to share the tips and secrets of their craft.

Learn Some of the Benefits of Art

Getting involved with World Art Day offers a unique opportunity to learn about (or be reminded of) some of the various benefits that art can bring to the individual human as well as to society as a whole. Show some interest by raising awareness and sharing some of these interesting facts about the power of art:

Art nurtures creativity and innovation, encouraging the practice of thinking differently and imagining new things.

Art embraces and honors cultural diversity, tearing down barriers and providing opportunities for understanding.

Art is good for the brain, activating reward centers and boosting concentration.

Art provides access to and recognition of emotions, perceptions and actions.

Become an Art Teacher

Looking to make a difference in the lives of children of all ages, or even adults who want to be more creative? Then perhaps the celebration of World Art Day will offer just the motivation that is needed to pursue the path of becoming an art teacher.

Those who want to teach art in schools will likely need to get a teaching degree with a focus on artistic studies, based on the rules of their location. Alternatively, folks who have experience with art and a penchant for teaching could simply set up their own art studio in the community where they offer lessons in different styles of artistic endeavors for people of any age.

World Art Day FAQs

What is art?

As an expression of human creativity, art may be visual, written, spoken or musical.

Can art change the world?

Art can break down cultural barriers, give voices to the voiceless, and offer cultural insights that can motivate people to make changes in the world.

How can art be political?

Over centuries, art has often been used to express options as part of a social or political movement to make bold statements and promote change.

What are the best art schools in the world?

Some of the top art schools include the Royal College of Art in London, Parsons School for Design in New York City, and the School of the Art Institute of Chicago.

Source

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beautifulbizarremagazine · 1 year

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The holidays are coming - why not treat yourself or someone you love with the gift of art? Visit the The Dark Art Emporium and see new group exhibition Mythic in its entirety!

VisualJamie

Dragonfly

Graphite on Bristol Paper

8" x 8" (Framed &* Matted to 12.5" x 12.5")

The Dark Art Emporium121 W. 4th Street, Long Beach, California 90802

Friday & Saturday 12 – 7pm | Sunday 12 – 5pmLocated in Downtown Long Beach within The 4th Horseman

For additional information and purchase availability please contact [email protected]

...

#beautifulbizarre #darkart #darksurrealism #mythic #mythicalart

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