#bronzework
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Bronze portrait bust found in the Villa of the Papyri at Herculaneum. The subject has been variously identified as Priapus, Dionysus/Bacchus, Plato, and Poseidon. Artist unknown; Roman copy after a Hellenistic original of ca. 100 BCE. Now in the National Archaeological Museum, Naples. Photo credit: Allan Gluck/Wikimedia Commons.
#classics#tagamemnon#Ancient Rome#Roman Empire#Herculaneum#art#art history#ancient art#Roman art#Ancient Roman art#Roman Imperial art#Greek art#Ancient Greek art#Hellenistic art#sculpture#portrait sculpture#portrait bust#metalwork#bronze#bronzework#MAN Naples#NAM Naples
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💂💂 - 💁 @MFABoston #BeninBronzes - #art # bronze #bronzework #metalwork #museum #exhibit #WestAfricanArt #AfricanArt #history #Boston (at Museum of Fine Arts, Boston) https://www.instagram.com/p/ClcK7hku-zs/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
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Dining in Chicago
With white cabinets, quartz countertops, a gray backsplash, stainless steel appliances, an island, an undermount sink, recessed-panel cabinets, and a glass tile backsplash, this mid-sized transitional galley kitchen has a medium tone wood floor.
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Chicago Transitional Kitchen
Remodeling ideas for a medium-sized transitional galley kitchen with a medium tone wood floor, white cabinets, quartz countertops, a gray backsplash, stainless steel appliances, an island, an undermount sink, recessed-panel cabinets, and a glass tile backsplash
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Kitchen - Transitional Kitchen
#Remodeling ideas for a medium-sized transitional galley kitchen with a medium tone wood floor#white cabinets#quartz countertops#a gray backsplash#stainless steel appliances#an island#an undermount sink#recessed-panel cabinets#and a glass tile backsplash recessed panel cabinet#bronzeworks studio#alyse edwards tile#satin nickel#microwave
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I have a question about Good Omens S2.
In 1692, Giles Corey of Salem, Massachusetts, was accused of witchcraft and refused to plead guilty or not guilty. To compel a plea so the trial could proceed, he was laid on the ground and rocks piled on top of him. With his final words, what did he allegedly ask for more of?
Also, according to the first book of Kings, when Solomon was building the Temple in Jerusalem he hired a bronzeworker named Hiram from Tyre. Among other things, Hiram created a very large basin, capable of holding "two thousand baths." In English translations, this basin is variously described as a molten, brazen, or cast what?
Weight. And sea.
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Land-Wights Devotional Garland (SOLD)
This set of devotional beads was inspired by the tutelary spirits, often known as the Land Wights.
It was constructed from alternating Moss Agate rondelle beads and handmade Hazel Wood beads, with a single bead of Jasperized Wood at its center. On one end is secured a small Hagstone discovered in a local creek, and on the other end is secured a fragment of Antique Bronzework, which was auspiciousy discovered, buried in the earth, before being cleaned and oiled. Upon assembly, the entire piece was then suffumigated with a smoke of wild-foraged Oakmoss, Sorrel, and Mint.
This piece measures approximately 19 inches/48 centimeters long, and all connecting rings and pins are made from silver-plated steel. It is being sold for $55 + Shipping, so if interested, free free to message me on tumblr or purchase it directly through my webshop.
#devotional beads#pagan devotional beads#pagan beads#land wights#land spirits#pagan rosary#wending wares
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hi don't mind me just setting snippets of what flora and fauna we get from the manga from the twilight realm here
The 5 petaled flowers around minda's father remind me of Balloon flowers, Chinese bellflower, or platycodon, especially with the leaves too. The birds look kinda like stylized grosbeak or haw finches to me, chinese fan palms, and brake ferns, along w some bushes I can't tell the species of.
That said most of these are unsurprisingly found in east Asia (considering the twili were inspired by 'random east Asian countries, not sure which' and their style for artwork and clothing was inspired by the shang dynasty bronzework and clothing style)
I find it kinda interesting how MUCH plant life is growing in the twilight realm, considering this was supposed to be a prison for them, a punishment. It had to be cultivated right? From what though?
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What would be your #1 advice for someone trying to make their own fanclans? Making a WC styled world and while the clans got destroyed, some traditions and such got passed down and im struggling to think of anything. And, are there any ideas for clan culture you haven't been able to use/doesnt fit in but that you really like?
Don't be afraid of setting rules for yourself. Picking themes, an ending, a hard location, and then sticking to it, can REALLY help get ideas rolling.
I think a lot of writers have a strange commitment to the idea of "letting the characters decide" the story or wanting ultimate freedom, but... I think that is actually a very bad idea to start off with. You can always change it later if it stops being helpful! But necessity really is the mother of invention. Humans LOVE breaking rules, but first you need rules to break at all!
So... where did your Clans go? What was their journey like? What caused the original clans you mentioned to fall apart at all?
If you were a parent cat passing on this story to your kitten, what would you say and how would you say it? What would be the lesson you want the child to learn? How do you emphasize that part of the parable when you tell this story?
Anyway, in terms of stuff I'd like for Clan culture that just doesn't fit... for a fanclan that evolved into something no-longer-a-fanclan I had cats riding domestic turkeys. God those turkeys were helpful. Their eggs, the speed, the horsegirl subculture... never been able to apply that to Clan Culture because that society was waaaay too far removed from the canon clans.
OH and bronzeworking. That's WAAAAAY out of the hands of canon-adjacent clans but I learned so much about early bronzework.
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(1/6) The Stars Within His Wings (Fan Fiction based on Good Omens by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett)
Part I: Too Near the Sun
Rome -- 41 AD
He lied to Aziraphale. He hadn't come to Rome for any temptation -- well, except maybe his own. He'd been following a bronze sculpture around the Mediterranean for almost three hundred years, now. He'd first encountered it in Thebes, in a bronzeworker's shop. It'd captivated him, the muscular forms of what gave every appearance of being unclothed angels -- one whose wings shimmered with the golden rays of Heaven's light, the other flashing with the burning red arch of Hell.
The bronzeworker -- a talented young man whose name Crowley hadn't bothered to learn at the time -- noticed his interest and explained the piece was Icarus and Apollo, with Apollo gripping Icarus's golden wings as he moved to toss him further into the sky, to burn up and die in the sun's burning rays.
Crowley hadn't bothered to correct him that the sun couldn't be reached from Earth's atmosphere. He'd been too entranced, his mind filled with thoughts he had no business entertaining. An angel, whose wings shone with golden flashes in the sunlight, and whose hair was even more blond, until it was almost white.
In that instant, he had to have it. When he enquired on the price, the artisan told him it was commissioned by an Athenian politician. Crowley stopped listening after that. He was already devising plans of how to get his hands on the statue. He'd even considered just taking it and disappearing. Something about it wouldn't let him just steal it, though. He swore he heard Aziraphale's voice, chiding him that he was better than that.
Now, Crowley snorted at the idea of an angel on his shoulder. That was for humans. His was a voice -- a memory from the courtyard of Job's home -- and the desire to be worthy in a pair of cerulean eyes. He wasn't even sure why that mattered, but it did.
Still, he couldn't get the irrational obsession with the statue out of his head. Something kept him hunting it, up until eight years ago. Seeing Aziraphale at Golgotha had broken something in him. Knowing why he was there -- why they were both there -- had burned like that metaphorical sun he'd been chasing all these years. God's willful desire to kill a young man with a bright future -- a man who truly believed himself to be God's son -- angered Crowley to the point he hadn't even been able to trust Aziraphale. He hadn't even been able to accept the angel he knew wouldn't kill innocents wasn't there out of some kind of misplace, zealous glee. Until he flung that insult in Aziraphale's face.
"Come to smirk at the poor bugger, have you?"
Why he said it, he didn't know, other than he wanted to hurt one of God's brainwashed little cretins as badly as what was happening hurt him. Only, Aziraphale wasn't brainwashed or a cretin, was he? They had a fair amount in common, he and the daft, innocent angel. Maybe that's why he kept snapping at Aziraphale like a wounded dog. He wanted the angel to take away a pain no one could.
He couldn't say that, though, so he just snarled and tried to get the angel to go away. At least that way, he couldn't ruin one more life that was just fine until he got hold of it. He lied and focused his attention on the only thing he could keep. The statue. He knew where it was being kept, and he was going to have it, once and for all. Maybe then the strange sensation he experienced whenever Aziraphale was around would go quiet.
Maybe then he would stop feeling like he was spiraling toward a star set to turn him to ash.
******
Crowley's Flat, Mayfair, London -- Night after Armagedidn't (Approx 2000 years later)
Aziraphale didn't want to admit how badly seeing that eagle sculptured pulpit from the church rattled him -- especially not to Crowley. That would mean explaining thoughts and feelings he'd been trying to hide for over 6000 years. Scandalous thoughts he was sure would mean his fall if Heaven ever caught wind of them.
Even worse... Aziraphale drew a still-unsteady breath. Even worse, since the night of the church bombing in 1941, he'd begun to wonder if he even cared about getting caught or falling, anymore. More and more often, when he looked at Crowley, he only wondered what life would be like if he was brave enough to just tell his oldest and dearest friend the truth -- starting with I don't mean it when I say we aren't friends and ending with I love you. More than Heaven. More than life. Can you ever love me back?
He winced. Lately, the only thing holding him back was imagining Crowley laughing at him, telling him that it was a good joke, and how funny it would be if they really did feel that way about each other. Of all Crowley's jokes over the millennia, that one would be the cruelest, because if he bared his soul only to have Crowley laugh off his feelings, he... well, he wasn't quite sure what he would do, but he knew he couldn't recover from that. Their friendship couldn't recover from that.
If he took that step, he needed Crowley to love him back. No one else ever had.
Feeling out of his depths, Aziraphale made his way back into the plant room, feeling a little more at peace surrounded by living things. The rest of Crowley's flat felt dark and lifeless. How could the demon stand living like this?
Aziraphale mourned his lost books. He mourned the loss of all the small things he'd collected over the millennia. Not the items themselves, of course, but the memories. He could touch any item in his bookshop and instantly recall the events it memorialized. After all, after 6000 years, one couldn't be expected to recall every detail of one's life without some kind of reminder. And now they were all gone.
He paused, hands clasped behind his back and his chin tipped down in consideration as he realized the only memories he could instantly recall, unprompted, all dealt with the demon whose flat he was currently pacing.
No surprise. He--
"Angel, where'd you go?" Crowley's voice preceded his entry into the room. The sight of his apologetic smile as he leaned against the doorframe sent Aziraphale's heartbeat skittering with feelings he repressed by rote, now. "Here you are, then. Sorry the place is so bare. Didn't really see the point in decorating it when I was never here."
Aziraphale turned his head, looking away, before he said something he'd regret. His gaze fell on a strange shape at the end of the short hallway on the other side of the room. Whatever it was, it'd been covered with what looked like a blanket, like Crowley was trying to hide it.
"What's down there?" He started forward.
Instantly, he sensed alarm from Crowley -- something else he'd never been able to explain to himself were the flashes of emotion he always picked up from the demon. Doubtful Crowley would be happy knowing Aziraphale could sometimes sense what he was feeling. Especially when those feelings just further confused the angel.
"That's nothing," Crowley muttered, moving quickly past him to block the hallway. "Doesn't even belong to me. I keep it covered so I don't have to look at it."
"Oh, can I see?" Intrigued, Aziraphale tried to move past him. However, doing so would require touching, and the angel was feeling far too vulnerable to get that close to Crowley, right now.
"'Fraid not, angel. It wouldn't interest you, anyway. Absolutely tasteless artwork."
Aziraphale eyed the demon warily, quite aware Crowley was lying to him, but just not quite sure why. Still, it wasn't his place, and Crowley was being so kind to let him stay here. "Oh, very well. What do you propose we do to pass the time?"
A strange look passed over Crowley's face, but it was gone so quickly Aziraphale couldn’t be sure he even saw it correctly, before the demon swallowed hard and muttered, "I have some of that wine you like. I'll open that and we can talk, yeah?"
Aziraphale repressed the urge to sigh, not sure he had much else to say, after the events of recent days. "Oh, I suppose. Thank you, Crowley. You're a good friend."
He couldn't help noticing the demon didn't correct him, this time.
******
Crowley's Flat, Mayfair, London -- 2 Hours After The Kiss (4 years later)
Crowley sprawled on the garish, burgundy-colored crushed-velvet monstrosity of a sofa Shax deemed fitting furniture and grimaced drunkenly at the plethora of mirrors hung all over the place before tipping the bottle of whiskey he held to his lips again, trying to wash away the memory of his angel's kiss. Of that little, needy whimper that told him Aziraphale wasn't as unaffected by the kiss as those three stinging words he uttered afterward.
I forgive you.
"Fuck." He dropped his head back, his eyes closed, as he ripped away the shades he somehow forgot he was wearing until just now. He'd been so desperate to just get so drunk he couldn't think, or remember anything, he hadn't cared about whether or not he could see.
He held it together the whole way back to this depressing flat -- he refused to call it home -- before the shaking started. Like an earthquake that ran every fault line from his soul outward, it had rattled through him, dropping him in the foyer. He'd crawled -- crawled -- in here and up onto the sofa, stopping over and over to pour alcohol down his throat. The alcohol was the only thing currently numbing the painful, empty throb in his chest.
He rubbed the heel of his hand roughly against the center of his chest, hissing at the emptiness behind his breastbone. It opened up the instant the doors to the lift closed, and it steadily carved the canyon through his chest he felt now. Like something vital to life ripped away the instant Aziraphale was gone.
How had he never noticed, before? There'd been plenty of times he and Aziraphale hadn't been near each other. Yet the only times he could even vaguely recall feeling like this were when Aziraphale got temporarily discorporated during the Antichrist incident and when he got dragged back to Hell after Edinburgh. He'd mourned when he thought Aziraphale was gone forever, and never been so relieved as when he realized his angel was just discorporated, and eventually made it back to Earth. As for Edinburgh, he'd just assumed at the time that the emptiness was a normal response to drying out in fucking Hell. Still, he hadn't wasted any time contacting his angel once he was back on Earth, had he?
He'd been so relieved to see Aziraphale, that time, he'd wanted to make absolutely sure Hell could never pull him back again. He'd wanted leverage. Holy water hadn't seemed an unreasonable solution, and he'd thought Aziraphale would be only too happy to help.
Had he ever been wrong. Instead of insurance against Hell, he'd alienated his only friend. Aziraphale refused to speak to him even when he tried to apologize. So, angry at himself for alienating his friend, he'd considered the best suitable response to just go to sleep for the next forty-ish or so years. Would've kept sleeping, too, if his brief break from sleeping in 1914 hadn't involved learning Hell intended to do away with his angel.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck." He groaned, now, pitching himself forward to pound his forehead against the heels of his hands, the nearly empty whiskey bottle landing with a totally unsatisfying thump on the ridiculous faux-fur rug.
Not that he cared how bad Shax's taste in decor was.
"I need a plan," he muttered to himself. Yet, he didn't have a fucking clue what kind of plan there was to make, aside from spending the next thousand years or so getting utterly wasted. He already knew if he tried to sleep, he'd just dream of Aziraphale. Now that the bag was quite utterly devoid of cats, merely thinking the angel's name made him ache to the depths of his Hell-scorched soul.
There was nothing he could do, this time. Aziraphale made his choice. He chose Heaven. He chose an angel that no longer existed -- hadn't existed in over 6000 years.
And Crowley couldn't breathe, anymore.
#good omens#good omens fandom#aziracrow#azicrow#aziraphale x crowley#ineffable husbands#aziraphale#crowley#ineffable spouses#fanfic#good omens fanfiction#good omens s2
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Horus Falcon Wearing Crown of Upper and Lower Egypt with Uraeus
Lord of the sky, solar god, and god of kingship -- Horus is among Egypt's oldest deities. The falcon soaring in the sky embodied the god's qualities, and Horus was represented as a falcon or falcon-headed man. As heir to the divine kingship of Egypt, he appears here with the royal uraeus (cobra) and the double crown. The statue illustrates the high standard of bronzeworking and the rising popularity of animal cults in Late Period Egypt (664--332 BCE). The bird's gilt eyes stand out from the dazzling feather coat, bringing to mind the celestial falcon, whose eyes were the sun and the moon. X-radiography has revealed a bird skeleton encased in the bronze. Mummified animals were dedicated by the thousands to the relevant deities. This bronze falcon, then, is not just an image of Horus but the tangible remains of a prayer to the god more than 2,500 years ago.
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Bronze balsamarium (container for oil or perfume), made in Etruria in the first half of the 3rd century BCE. The balsamarium takes the form of a deity with a winged helmet, variously identified as 1) Turan, goddess of love, fertility, and sexual potency, identified with Aphrodite/Venus and patroness of the Etruscan city of Velch (=Vulci), or 2) one of the Lasas, deities who made up Turan's entourage, possibly connected to the Roman Lares (household gods). Height = 10.8 cm/4.2 in. Now in the Walters Art Museum, Baltimore. Photo credit: Walters Art Museum.
#classics#tagamemnon#Etruria#Etruscan#artifact#artifacts#art#art history#ancient art#Etruscan art#Etruscan religion#sculpture#metalwork#bronzework#balsamarium#Hellenistic period#Walters Art Museum
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The surviving Aries Bronze sculpture from the first half of the 3rd century BC - h 79 cm, length. 138 cm - from the Maniace Castle of Syracuse - Regional Archaeological Museum of Palermo The sculpture can be considered unique in Sicily as a rare example of Hellenistic Greek bronzework.
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Production Manager - Furniture, London, £Negotiable, V03855
Our client is an innovative and pioneering gallery of original and unique furniture and products. Championing and showcasing the work of designers who are both new and world famous, they have grown to be renowned for the work they create. They are now recruiting for a Production Manager to plan, coordinate and control manufacturing processes so that products are delivered on time and within budget.
You will be ensuring that goods and services are produced safely, cost-effectively and that they meet the required quality standards. A large part of the job will be dealing with people and resource management and you may also be involved with furniture design and purchasing.
You’ll have strong planning and organisation skills and the ability to act decisively and grasp complex concepts easily. With a results-driven approach to work, you’ll have ICT literacy (software and CAD programmes). Attention to detail to ensure high levels of quality is a must and so is the ability to communicate clearly and persuasively with your team, managers and clients. Strong negotiation skills for getting materials within budget at the right time will also be required alongside leadership skills and the ability to motivate others.
Salary is negotiable + pension. Please contact Pippa Baker on 01920 486125 for further details, or simply forward your application and CV / portfolio to [email protected]. You can also apply via our website www.careersindesign.com/design-jobs/1123.
#lighting#furniture#london#workshop#bronzework#atelier#sculpture#Production Manager#design jobs#designjobs
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Fossilised spiral from a Gastropod mounted on moulded bronze base #fossil #fossilcollector #fossildisplay #mountmaking #arthandling #naturalhistory #gastropod #bronzework #bronzeplinth #bronze #exhibitionstand #displayplinth #rareobjects #extrodinaryobjects #museumservices #fossils #mountmakers #displayspecialists https://www.instagram.com/p/CDJM1AJHmVe/?igshid=6qna26iaswfn
#fossil#fossilcollector#fossildisplay#mountmaking#arthandling#naturalhistory#gastropod#bronzework#bronzeplinth#bronze#exhibitionstand#displayplinth#rareobjects#extrodinaryobjects#museumservices#fossils#mountmakers#displayspecialists
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🛠️In progress🛠️🔻 🔻 👇 👇 👇 🇸🇪 Viking knife Sheath based on Gotland finds. Handmade craft with leather and bronze. 🔻 🔻 🔻 🇸🇪 Vaina de cuchillo vikingo basado en hallazgo de Gotland Suecia. Hecho de cuero y bronce. *próximamente subiré el terminado* 🔻 🔻 🔻 #vikingknife #vikingsheath #leatherwork #brasswork #bronzework #sketchup #sketchandmake #reenactment #vikingreenactment #norsemythology #celtknife #celticcraft #celts #inprogress #enproceso #vainadecueroybronce #arteescandinavo #hechoamano #handmadecraft #norsepagan #recreacionismo #sweeden #gotland #vikingmood #workingon @aceaemprendedoresavellaneda @santafe.emprende @the_heathen_horde (en Plaza 9 de Julio) https://www.instagram.com/p/B2Q7_3UHyod/?igshid=kttwc0gj11p3
#vikingknife#vikingsheath#leatherwork#brasswork#bronzework#sketchup#sketchandmake#reenactment#vikingreenactment#norsemythology#celtknife#celticcraft#celts#inprogress#enproceso#vainadecueroybronce#arteescandinavo#hechoamano#handmadecraft#norsepagan#recreacionismo#sweeden#gotland#vikingmood#workingon
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