Procrastination doodles of sabo for the king sabo au :)

Equals

DILFiano CW: morally grey age gap and power dynamics

Word count: 1.4k

There’s so much guilt in his eyes the morning after he’d ruthlessly rejected you. Damiano made brioches for his daughter and her friends like we were 14. You recognized that he was trying to apologize, while also properly contextualizing you in his head. You weren’t going to make it easy. If he wanted an insecure, freshman y/n Damiano could look in his Facebook memories. You were a woman now, a reality which he’d already accepted, albeit subconsciously.

Icarus, Moxy, and Elliot were both too loud and complaining about hangovers. Totally blind to the experiences of people in the world around them. How anyone could miss their father looking so crestfallen you didn’t know. The idea that Icarus was self-absorbed was easier to bear than the reality that Dami looked miserable so often that she’d grown used to it.

Truthfully, you looked more hungover than anyone, despite that glass of wine alone with Damiano being your last drink. Your heart had risen to your throat and your stomach dropped like the downhill on a rollercoaster. Except you were still going down hill, and the sensation was unbearable.

“You feeling okay, y/n?” he said in an amicable, parental tone. The panic in his eyes wasn’t even properly masked. Anyone who looked at him instead of through him could see it, but it seemed you were the only people that saw each other.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you responded reflexively. Dami looked hurt that your answer was so impersonal, which caused a wave of red hot anger to rise in your chest. He had no right to expect intimacy. That was a door he’d slammed in your face.

“Maybe some food would help?” He so wanted to sooth in a way that was appropriate, step back behind that boundary without losing distance. It was impossible. Even seated at the same table as your friends, you and Damano might as well be in a different room. There was so much separation from their world and this one, so many layers of complexity a person might never come back from trying to discern it, like an acid trip gone wrong.

“No thanks, not right now.” You wished there was a way to tell Damiano that this wasn’t a rejection of his apology. Getting up an hour early to cook for everyone wasn’t futile. You were suffocating on your emotions, the choke hold too tight to swallow a bite. It felt like you might puke, but also by the same impulse that you might scream or cry. Not wanting to take the chance, you got up from the table, and walked to the bathroom without drawing attention to yourself.

After a couple minutes of sitting in front of the toilet, you realized that you weren’t going to be sick, maybe just spontaneously combust. In a state of such overwhelm, returning to the dining room felt impossible, so you crouched in the corner and tried not to hyperventilate. Granite countertop, smudgeless mirror, shining silver facets, bright white porcelain, monogrammed hand towel. Listing your surroundings was supposed to be  grounding, but the framed picture of Damiano performing tripped you up. He was nearly naked, covered in sweat, makeup smeared, looking drunk on wonder: a wild thing. It couldn’t have looked more out of place.

Someone knocked softly on the door and you momentarily panicked, wondering how long you’d been sitting on the bathroom floor. The only person with mannerisms that timid was Icarus’ younger brother.

“Sorry Alexander, come in.” You tried to scramble to a standing position, but the person who opened the door was Damiano. He closed it behind himself immediately.

“Just wanted to check if you needed someone to hold your hair.” You looked at Dami hard, wanting him to acknowledge that this wasn’t typical conduct.

“Don��t worry I’m not going to tell anyone.” Why else would he visit you in private? His face fell, and you couldn’t bear to see him absolutely crushed again. “Stop that,” you snapped, without meaning to.

“Stop what?”

“Looking so fucking devastated all the time. It's heartbreaking to watch, go do something to make yourself happy.” Normally, you’d never chastise an adult, especially Damiano, but the situation had made you fearless. Even so, after speaking you immediately shut your mouth, regretful.

“I don’t think anyone’s ever told me that so directly,” he chuckles. Damiano’s back slides down the wall as he comes to sit across from you.

“I shouldn’t have said that. It wasn’t respect –”

“Fuck that, we’re equals.”

“We are?” Damiano nods, lining the soles of his socked feet up with yours. You press your feet together, feeling the warmth of his skin through the fabric. The sinking feeling became butterflies as the corners of his mouth turned upwards in a smile.

“Never stop telling me the truth, y/n. You’re the most observant person I know.” He huffs and looks at the ceiling for a moment. “Shouldn’t have said that.”

“I won’t tell,” you whisper, flirtatiously.

“This is the worst idea I’ve had in years,” he muses, looking at your game of footsie instead of meeting your eyes.

“Since that decorative choice?” You tilt your head towards the framed picture above the toilet. “Because that's a really depressing metaphor.” Damiano splutters a laugh, gazing at his younger self like a distant relative he is surprised to find he's related to.

“It’s definitely bad placement, yeah. That was a great show, though,” he says, wistfully.

“Tell me about it.”

“Okay, um, that's The Roxy. It was our second time, and uh,” he giggles and the light comes to his eyes. “Ethan stage dove at the end, but he was so sweaty that they dropped him,” he chortles at the memory, hand coming up to cover his face.

“That entire venue is covered in half a century of sweat,” you volunteered.

“It is. The floor is sticky, and it's pretty disgusting, but you can feel the energy radiating from everything. The crowd is wild, just…just insane, like throwing their clothes. Someone called the police to report public indecency, but security wouldn’t even let them in.”

“Oh my god,” you marveled. How had you never heard these stories? Damiano was more animated than you’d ever seen him.

“We had to adjust after the sound check, because they were so loud, couldn’t hear the music. Which is like, the best feeling.” There was so much joy in Damiano’s face, in his gestures. He was reinvigorated by these memories. “Anyways,” he sighs, deflating. “I could keep talking about it –”

“I wish you would,” you interrupt.

“Yeah…” he trails off, focusing his gaze on where your feet met. You clasped a bit of fabric between your first two toes and pulled, trying to remove his sock. “What are you doing?” The more Damiano tried to pull away, the further off his sock slid.

“Winning,” you supplied, with a grin, contorting your limbs to pull the entire garment free.

“Give me my sock back!” He tried to pry it from your grasp and won easily, but not before you’d made him laugh. Dami muttered something about “ridiculous” while pulling it back on, shaking his head and trying to hide his wry grin. It was all very grown up and respectable of him.

Still, his other foot caressed yours. Damiano’s arch molded itself to yours, like two bodies spooning. He rubbed the ball of his foot back and forth, and you imagined it was his hand stroking your skin. You tried to fit the gaps between your toes together, with some uncomfortable twisting of the ankle.

“What are you doing?” he exclaimed, affectionately.

“We fit together. See?” For a second, in this small way, your bodies did slot together. For you, this could be misconstrued as innocent. However, the hunger in Dami’s gaze threatened to leap forth. Immediately, he struggled to cover it.

“I think you’re right about that picture,” he redirected, lamely. “Something about this room is just too, it's just too –”

“Sterile,” you supplied, looking straight at him. It was like a person caught committing a crime. Damiano scrambled to cover himself to no avail. He looked so uncomfortable and violated that you raised a questioning eyebrow.

“You’re making this very difficult for me.”

“How so?” Asking what would be insolent. The what was the reason this interaction felt like your only source of oxygen. Damiano tilted his head to the side in thought, canine tooth sinking into the flesh of his mauve bottom lip.

“It’s like you have laser vision. Most people aren’t ready to be so seen.”

“Am I the only one that makes you feel seen?”

“If I told you that, I’d have to kill you,” he jokes, even though it's not a joke at all, just a cheap deflection. Almost imperceptibly, Damiano winces at his own remark. Unfortunately, his comment is pretty accurate. This feels like a slow death anyway.

Notes: ask and you shall receive my loves! Unless you ask for smut. This is a slow burn. Mwuhahaha

Masterlist

@gr8rainbowpunk @homesicam @hiraetheral @l0standn0tf0und @teenyweenynightghost @elvirabelle @immrbrightsideeee @idyllicbutterfly @ilwiwbysmv @superchrystaldrug @que--sera--sera @theimpossiblehologramtree @blackberryblossom @weareoddlydrawn @asianhawkeye @butkutee @iamtashaquinn @maneslut @maneskintifoso @little-moonbeam-666 @girlnred @maneskinyakaar @obiw4n @minnietmouse @thatonebraziliangirl @bohemianrainbow @icarodamiano @xweirdxsceletton @boyswillbeexecutied @daisy0gf @stardustingold @maneslut @katyldamusic @cuzimitaliano @ch3rryk4ii @bieberhoodforever @damoriaa @teacosea @whore4damia @ohdamiano @wasteddoubts @maneskindiva

A review of “Journey Into Mystery,” the penultimate Loki Season One episode on Disney+, coming up just as soon as I paper cut a giant cloud to death…

Journey Into Mystery was the title of the first Marvel comic to feature either Thor or Loki. It began as an anthology series featuring monsters and aliens, but Jack Kirby, Stan Lee, and Larry Lieber were so smitten with their adaptation of the characters of Norse myth that the Asgardians gradually took over the whole book, which was renamed after its hammer-wielding hero(*).

(*) The early Journey Into Mystery stories treated Thor’s alter ego, disabled Dr. Donald Blake, as the “real” character, while Thor was just someone Blake could magically transform into, while retaining his memories and personality. It wasn’t even clear whether Asgard itself was meant to exist at first, until Loki turned up on Earth in an early issue, caused trouble, and Blake/Thor somehow knew exactly how to get to Asgard to drop him off. Soon, the lines between Thor and Blake began to blur, and eventually Thor became the real guy, and Blake a fiction invented by Odin to humble his arrogant son. It’s a mark of just how instantly charismatic Loki was that the entire title quickly steered towards him and the other gods.

But once upon a time, anything was possible in Journey Into Mystery, which makes it an apt moniker for an absolutely wonderful episode of Loki where the same holds true. Our title characters are trapped in the Void, a place at the end of time where the TVA’s victims are banished to be devoured by a cloud monster named Alioth. And mostly they are surrounded by the wreckage of many dead timelines. Classic Loki insists that his group’s only goal is survival, and any kind of planning and scheming is doomed to kill the Loki who tries. But this ruined, hopeless world instead feels bursting with imagination and possibility.

There are the many Loki variants we see, with President Loki, among others, joining Classic, Kid, Boastful, and Alligator Loki. There are the metric ton of Easter Eggs just waiting to be screencapped by Marvel obsessives (I discuss a few of them down below), but which still suggest a much larger and weirder MCU even if you don’t immediately scream out “Is that… THROG?!?!?” at the appropriate moment. And all of that stuff is tons of fun, to be sure. But what makes this episode — and, increasingly, this series — feel so special is the way that it explores the untapped potential of Loki himself, in his many, many variations.

This is an episode that owes more than a small stylistic and thematic debt to Lost. It’s not just that Alioth looks and sounds so much like the Smoke Monster(*), that it makes a shared Wizard of Oz reference to “the man behind the curtain” (also the title of one of the very best Lost episodes), or even that the core group of Lokis are hiding in a bunker accessible via a hatch and a ladder that’s filled with recreational equipment (in this case, bowling alley lanes). It’s also that Loki, Sylvie, their counterparts, and Mobius have all been transported to a strange place that has disturbing echoes from their own lives, that operates according to strange new rules they have to learn while fleeing danger, and their presence there allows them to reflect on the many mistakes of their past and consider whether they want to, or can, transcend them.

(*) Yes, Alioth technically predates Smokey by a decade (see the notes below for more), but his look has been tweaked a bit here to seem more like smoke than a cloud, and the sounds he makes when he roars sound a lot like Smokey’s telltale taxi cab meter clicks. Given the other Lost hat tips in the episode, I have to believe Alioth was chosen specifically to evoke Smokey.

Classic Loki is aptly named. He wears the Sixties Jack Kirby costume, and he is a far more powerful magician than either Sylvie or our Loki have allowed themselves to be. He calls our Loki’s knives worthless compared to his sorcery, which feels like the show acknowledging that the movies depowered Loki a fair amount to make him seem cooler. But if Classic Loki can conjure up illusions bigger and more potent than his younger peers, he is a fundamentally weak and defeated man, convinced, like the others, that the only way to win the game into which he was born is not to play. “We cannot change,” he insists. “We’re broken. Every version of ourselves. Forever.” It is not only his sentiment — Kid Loki adds that any Loki who tries to improve inevitably winds up in the Void for their troubles — but it seems to have weighed on him longer and harder than most.

But Classic Loki takes inspiration from Loki and Sylvie to stand and fight rather than turn and run, magicking up a vision of their homeland to distract Alioth at a crucial moment in Sylvie’s plan, and getting eaten for his trouble. He was wrong: Lokis can change. (Though Kid Loki might once again argue that Classic Loki’s death is more evidence that the universe has no interest in any of them doing so.) And both Loki and Sylvie have been changing throughout their time together. Like most Lokis, they seem cursed to a life of loneliness. Sylvie learned as a child that a higher power believed she should not exist, and has spent a lifetime hiding out in places where any friends she might make will soon die in an apocalypse. Our Loki’s past isn’t quite so stark, but the knowledge that his birth father abandoned him, while his adoptive father never much liked him, have left permanent scars that govern a lot of his behavior. The defining element of Classic Loki’s backstory is that he spent a long time alone on a planet, and only got busted by the TVA when he attempted to reconnect with his brother and anyone else he once knew. This is a hard existence, for all of them. And while it does not forgive them their many sins(*), it helps contextualize them, and give them the knowledge to try to be better versions of themselves.

(*) Loki at one point even acknowledges that, for him, it’s probably only been a few days since he led an alien invasion of New York that left many dead, though due to TVA shenanigans, far more time may have passed.

For that matter, Mobius is not the stainless hero he once thought of himself as. While he and Sylvie are tooling around the Void in a pizza delivery car (because of course they are), he admits that he committed a lot of sins by believing that the ends justified the means, and was wrong. He doesn’t know who he is before the TVA stole and factory rebooted him, but he knows that he wants something better for himself and the universe, and takes the stolen TemPad to open up a portal to his own workplace in hopes of tearing down the TVA once and for all. Before he goes, though, he and Loki share a hug that feels a lot more poignant than it should, given that these characters have only spent parts of four episodes of TV together. It’s a testament to Hiddleston, Wilson, Waldron, and company (Tom Kauffman wrote this week’s script) that their friendship felt so alive and important in such a short amount of time.

The same can be said for Loki and Sylvie’s relationship, however we’re choosing to define it. Though they briefly cuddle together under a blanket that Loki conjures, they move no closer to romance than they were already. If anything, Mobius’ accusations of narcissism in last week’s episode seem to have made both of them pull back a bit from where they seemed to be heading back on Lamentis. But the connection between them is real, whatever exactly it is. And their ability to take down Alioth — to tap into the magic that Classic Loki always had, and to fulfill Loki’s belief that “I think we’re stronger than we realize” — by working together is inspiring and joyful. Without all this nuanced and engaging character work, Loki would still be an entertaining ride, but it’s the marriage of wild ideas with the human element that’s made it so great.

Of course, now comes the hard part. Endings have rarely been an MCU strength, give or take something like the climax of Endgame, and the finales of the two previous Disney+ shows were easily their weakest episodes. The strange, glorious, beautiful machine that Waldron and Herron have built doesn’t seem like it’s heading for another generic hero/villain slugfest, but then, neither did WandaVision before we got exactly that. This one feels different so far, though. The command of the story, the characters, and the tone are incredibly strong right now. There is a mystery to be solved about who is in the big castle beyond the Void (another Loki makes the most narrative and thematic sense to me, but we’ll see), and a lot to be resolved about what happens to the TVA and our heroes. And maybe there’s some heavy lifting that has to be done in service to the upcoming Dr. Strange or Ant-Man films.

It’s complicated, but on a show that has handled complexity well. Though even if the finale winds up keeping things simpler, that might work. As Loki notes while discussing his initial plan to take down Alioth, “Just because it’s not complicated doesn’t mean it’s bad.” Though as Kid Loki retorts, “It also doesn’t mean it’s good.”

Please be good, Loki finale. Everything up to this point deserves that.

Some other thoughts:

* Most of this week’s most interesting material happens in the Void. But the scenes back at the TVA clarify a few things. First, Ravonna is not the mastermind of all this, and she was very much suckered in by the Time-Keeper robots. But unlike Mobius or Hunter B-15, she’s so conditioned to the mission that even knowing it’s a lie hasn’t really swayed her from her mission. She has Miss Minutes (who herself is much craftier this week) looking into files about the creation of the TVA, but for the most part comes across as someone very happy with a status quo where she gets to be special and pass judgment on the rest of the multiverse.

* Alioth first appeared in 1993’s Avengers: The Terminatrix Objective, a miniseries (written by Mobius inspiration Mark Gruenwald, and with some extremely kewl Nineties art full of shoulder pads, studded collars, and the like) involving Ravonna, Kang, and the off-brand versions of Captain America, Iron Man, and Thor (aka U.S. Agent, War Machine, and Thunderstrike, the latter of whom has yet to appear in the MCU). It’s a sequel to a Nineties crossover event called Citizen Kang. And no, I still don’t buy that Kang will be the one pulling the strings here, if only because it’s really bad storytelling for the big bad of the season to have never appeared or even been mentioned prior to the finale.

* Rather than try to identify every Easter egg visible in the Void’s terrain, I’ll instead highlight three of the most interesting. Right before the Lokis arrive at the hatch, we see a helicopter with Thanos’ name on it. This is a hat tip to an infamous — and often memed — out-of-continuity story where Thanos flies this chopper while trying to steal the Cosmic Cube (aka the Tesseract) from Hellcat. (A little kid gets his hands on it instead and, of course, uses the Cube to conjure up free ice cream.) James Gunn has been agitating for years for the Thanos Copter to be in the MCU. He finally got his wish.

* The other funny one: When the camera pans down the tunnel into Kid Loki’s headquarters, we see Mjolnir buried in the ground, and right below it is a jar containing a very annoyed frog in a Thor costume. This is either Thor himself — whom Loki cursed into amphibianhood in a memorable Walt Simonson storyline — or another character named Simon Walterston (note the backwards tribute to Walt) who later assumed the tiny mantle.

* Also, in one scene you can spot Yellowjacket’s helmet littering the landscape. This might support the theory that the TVA, the Void, etc., all exist in the Quantum Realm, since that’s where the MCU version of Yellowjacket probably went when his suit shorted out and he was crushed to subatomic size. Or it might be more trolling of the fanbase from the company that had WandaVision fans convinced that Mephisto, the X-Men, and/or Reed Richards would be appearing by the season finale.

* Honestly, I would have watched an entire episode that was just Loki, Mobius, and the others arguing about whether Alligator Loki was actually a Loki, or just a gator who ended up with the crown, presumably after eating a real Loki. The suggestion that the gator might be lying — and that this actually supports, rather than undermines, the case for him being a Loki — was just delightful. And hey, if Throg exists in the MCU now, why not Alligator Loki?

* Finally, the MCU films in general are not exactly known for their visual flair, though a few directors like Taika Waititi and Ryan Coogler have been able to craft distinctive images within the franchise’s usual template. Loki, though, is so often wonderful to look at, and particularly when our heroes are stuck in strange environments like Lamentis or the Void. Director Kate Herron and the VFX team work very well together to create dynamic and weird imagery like Sylvie running from Alioth, or the chaotic Loki battle in the bowling alley. Between this show and WandaVision, it appears the Disney+ corner of the MCU has a bit more room to expand its palette. (Falcon and the Winter Soldier, much less so.)

Favorite Books Read in 2019

Excellent Women by Barbara Pym (1952)

I need to read more books about ordinary, good, flawed women because this book brought me so much joy. Never have I identified with a character as much as Mildred. (Not sure how that makes me look, but that’s fine!) She’s a little nosy, has good intentions, wants to mainly observe life, but wishes that life could be more sometimes. I love her a lot. And I appreciate how tea itself was a character in this book. I definitely need to check out more Barbara Pym because this is my type of humor and mundane, every day life I like to read about. 

Convenience Store Woman by Sayaka Murata (2016)

Although I'm not really supposed to, I enjoy reading at the circulation desk when I'm on shift. And when I started reading this book, every other patron was telling me their thoughts and feelings of it. My favorite one was, "it's just... not very life giving you know? I thought it would be more uplifting" ... did you even read the premise? I don't think this is going to be an uplifting, empowering tale! With their opinions in mind, I delved into "Convenience Store Woman" and I absolutely loved it. I didn't find it as hilarious as other folks because I found it more bittersweet, but there are some funny moments.

Daughter of the Forest by Juliet Marillier (1999)

I was honestly a tad bored for the first 100 pages, but once the fairy tale aspect kicked in, I was hooked! Sorcha's journey was unrelenting and intense. I didn't expect that at all since the task given to Sorcha was to weave 6 shirts. There's a lot more to it than that, but Marillier really captured Sorcha's inner turmoil, her sacrifice, and the high stakes of it all. I also didn't expect how well Marillier could write a mute character. Sorcha was a vibrant, strong, vulnerable character. All conveyed without her speaking. I appreciated the physicality of her character. In the way she expressed herself, in her weaving and healing. Lastly, as nice as the romance was (still  creeped out that she's 16 and he's like 22), the relationships I cried many times over were the relationships between Sorcha and her brothers. In hindsight, the kind of boring first 100 pages were set up for the emotional devastation of the curse. Not only did you feel for Sorcha and her harrowing task, but I also felt the loss of each brother.

Northanger Abbey by Jane Austen (1817)

I have now read half of Jane Austen's novels, and I forget how much I love her each time. Her heroines are excellent, and her writing is so entertaining and readable. And I enjoyed Northanger Abbey immensely! Catherine's imagination and good heart, the Gothic flare, Henry's flirtatiousness, the scheming and hilarious Thorpes, and the love of stories. There is a lot to like. However, the last 40 pages or so greatly disappointed me. The book lost its character and charm due to the lack of dialogue and Catherine's insights. It shifted to the narrator and therefore, the reader didn't get a passionate or endearing confession scene. No true confrontation between Catherine and Henry. Where is the dialogue? Catherine's removal from Northanger Abbey was intense and distraught, but there was no emotional follow up for it. Just explanation. This authorial decision kind of bummed me out so I am giving this 4 stars.

Milkman by Anna Burns (2018)

So past me only wrote “So flipping good” for my Goodreads review and I’m so mad! That doesn’t help me with this year end wrap up does it? This is what I can remember. It’s a stylistically difficult book with a meandering narrative, but once you get into it, it’s fascinating. I’ve never read something like this before. The lilt and strangeness of it all still lingers in my mind. I listened to this on audio book while following along with the text and that helped a lot. This book made me interested in learning more about the Troubles and Northern Ireland. 

Say Nothing by Patrick Radden Keefe (2019)

Another book without a review on Goodreads. Ugh! After reading a little bit of Milkman, I stopped and thought, “Maybe this would be easier to get if I had greater contextual understanding?” So, my friend recommended this book to me and I read it over my Nantucket trip. This was my beach read. And it was excellent! I was hesitant since I do not like true crime, but Keefe uses Jean McConville’s murder as a narrative thread to delve into the Troubles and an example of collective memory. He also writes about the lives of well known people during the Troubles, and this gives the reader a more humanistic portrayal of a long and complicated history.

His Dark Materials by Philip Pullman (1995-2000)

Oh gosh, my reviews for all three novels are so long, it’s difficult to condense. Basically, I thought the first two books were very good. I found the world of the Golden Compass to be the most compelling and the bold opening in the Subtle Knife to be successful. I love Will and Lyra, but going into the third book, I felt Will overshadowed Lyra a little bit. In a way I personally didn’t like. The third book was definitely the weakest since there were some character developments and decisions that didn’t feel organic. I could sense Pullman’s authorial hand multiple times all for the sake of the greater themes which hurt the plot and emotional weight of some moments. Overall though, I clearly love this series since it’s on this list. Lyra, Pantalaimon, Will, Iorek, and many others are so dear to me. I wish I read this series as a kid, but I’m glad I read them now too.

A Woman of No Importance by Oscar Wilde (1893)

I went on a hard core Oscar Wilde binge late last year and I read 5 of his plays: The Importance of Being Earnest, Salome, Lady Windermere’s Fan, A Woman of No Importance and An Ideal Husband. They were all excellent, but my favorite was A Woman of No Importance. I usually hate the plot devices of miscommunication and birth secrets, but Wilde handles them so well. This is a feminist play that tackles gender double standards, concepts of innocence, and single motherhood. I highly recommend listening to this on audio book or watching a production because I enjoyed his plays more like that than just reading them. 

Naondel by Maria Turtschaninoff (2016)

This might be the darkest YA fantasy series I've ever read. Trigger warnings for sexual assault, pedophilia, torture, violence. It's difficult to read, but these women's stories are powerful. This story is mostly a web of these women's lives and how they all come together as the wives and concubines of this awful Vizier's harem. The introduction of this large cast of characters increasingly became a little repetitive, but at the end, I love the ensemble that was built. Each character's back story and the world she comes from was explored which was interesting! Turtschaninoff creates a fascinating world with diverse cultures, belief systems and customs. I noticed this in her last novel, Maresi, too. She loves her world building and what she creates is so unique. However, apart from the beginning chapters, hundreds and hundreds of pages go by without much plot. It feels like the reader is waiting for all the characters to come into place and into their roles before the big escape happens which takes 85% of the book. If you're into character driven novels and lush world building, this series is for you. And I love both of those things. Just needed more of a driving force throughout the novel than in the last 75 pages so 4 stars.

Shorts : The 93rd Academy Awards (2020 Nominees)

Even before my days as a film blogger, I always made a concentrated effort to try and see as many films nominated during awards season as I could... I would hope to have seen them throughout the course of the year in the natural flow of of my viewing, but inevitably I end up playing catch-up in the span of time between the Golden Globe nominations and the Academy Awards ceremony.  One unfortunate consistency, however, is the fact that I often fall short (no pun intended) in my coverage of short live-action, animated and documentary films that receive recognition from the Oscars. 

With streaming ruling more than ever in the wake of COVID-19 and the pandemic, and more access to films regardless of the current state of world affairs, I wanted to make sure that my attempt to cover as much ground in the Oscar nomination pool as possible included shorts, and thanks to a bit of sleuth work, I was able to see a large slice of the nominated material.  This article will focus solely on my thoughts about what I was able to see, but more importantly, it will allow me to include these categories in my prediction post, as they are often overlooked.

Editor’s note - Due to a lack of access, the following films will be excluded from this list :  - Oprea (Best Animated Short nominee) - White Eye (Best Live-Action nominee)

Burrow (SparkShorts/Pixar, dir. Madeline Sharafian) Best Animated Short nominee

It’s easy to see why Burrow was paired with the wildly successful and stellar animated feature Soul, as both tell a similar tale about independence in the face of community, albeit one is much more layered and textured than the other.  That being said, Burrow is able to transmit its message without the use of dialogue, instead utilizing a bouncy soundtrack and sound design to match both the underground and animal-based aspects of the short.  The lighting techniques in particular stand out, especially when the bunny finds himself digging tunnels.  The menagerie of animal characters are each given unique design to reflect the vast number of subterranean dwellers in the wild, but the designs also share enough similarity to keep the overall world aesthetic uniform and enjoyable.  This one is definitely highly recommended for children, although its extremely short runtime may leave them demanding more.  Major props to Madeline Sharafian for making such a dynamic piece of traditional animation in a company known for pushing the realms of digital animation and 3-D character rendering.

Genius Loci (UniFrance, dir. Adrien Merigeau) Best Animated Short nominee

Genius Loci should be framed and presented to the masses a motion-based art.  The way in which each sequence is laid out like some sort of abstract piece of artwork is stunning, and as the narrative unfolds in its powerful minimalist take on surrealism, we are given a creatively intriguing blend of symbolism and stimuli that is nothing short of breathtaking.  Genius Loci harkens me back to the days of programs like MTv’s Liquid Television, where I wasn’t even registering how much the lines between entertainment and artwork were being blurred.  Even in its abstraction and heavy symbolism, it is extremely easy to recognize the variety of human interactions that Merigauh parades in her dreamlike animated sonnet.  In all honesty, words do not do this modern masterpiece justice… it simply must be seen to be believed, especially for anyone who was a fan of any aspect of Waking Life.

If Anything Happens I Love You (Netflix, dir. Will McCormack and Michael Govier) Best Animated Short nominee

If Anything Happens I Love You is an incredibly artistic (and seemingly deeply personal) rumination on grief in the  wake of sudden and tragic loss.  Aesthetically, the film has an elevated Plymptoons style to it, with an excellent use of minimalism and abstraction that simplifies ideas of memory, personal regret and reconciliation with grace, thoughtfulness and nuance.  While absent of dialogue, the use of sound design, illustration and a well-placed King Princess song says more than any dialogue or exposition could ever manage in a package like this.  The way that memories blend together and introduce color in a world where the presence is absent of it leaves a lasting impression.  Short projects like this show animation’s capacity to elicit a deep emotional reaction and touch upon topics that may seem to step into the realms of exploitation if done traditionally.  The emotional gut punch delivered by If Anything Happens I Love You in its waning moments is as touching as it is heartbreaking, and is likely to pull tears out of even the most hardened moviegoer.  

Yes-People (The New Yorker, dir. Gísli Darri Halldórsson)

One thing about Yes-People that immediately stands out is the character design... I am unsure of whether it is a stop-motion film, a computer-generated animation, or some other technique made to emulate these others.  There is a minimalist aspect to the film similar to that of Aardman Animations, particularly in terms of the narrative hook involving the use of a single word : “Yes”.  We are shown a wide range of individuals with distinct looks and seemingly distinct purposes in life, and although all characters use the same word (and are tied to the same use of a single song throughout the film), it is the way in which these particular elements are displayed and presented that gives the world a sense of variety and distinction amongst its participants.  The look seems geared towards children, but the subject matter and tone seem to be geared more so towards adults, especially in the way it deals with finding joy and pleasure in the mundane nature of living.  While not the most moving piece of animation for me out of the bunch, I can certainly recognize art when I see it, and Yes-People deserves all of the recognition and accolades it is currently attaining. 

Colette (The Guardian, dir. Anthony Giacchino) Best Documentary Short nominee

While not the first documentary on the impact of the Nazi party during World War II, Colette does more to humanize the tragedy than any other piece of media I can recall.  To clarify, many documentaries have shown images and footage of prisoners, but Colette does so without taking a morbid tourist, exploitation or self-gratifying stance.  In contrast, we are taken to a World War II museum prior to visiting the concentration camp where Jean-Pierre (brother of documentary subject Colette Marin-Catherine) was held, where we see items, portraits and registration cards meant to contextualize the scale of the Nazi atrocities.  Rather than utilize shock and despair, we are given a very welcoming presentation, which makes it easier to understand and accept how recognizing and understanding our past downfalls can help avoid them in the future.  Colette Marin-Catherine and Lucie Fouble have a wonderful synergy together, and their conversations serve to further illustrate the nuance that comes with recognizing the past, based on your personal past and point of view.  Colette Marin-Catherine is not only extremely honest about herself, but she is quick to hold up a mirror to those who exploit the tragedies Germany committed during World War II, and it’s this ability to be forthright and unwavering that makes her a fascinating subject.

A Concerto Is a Conversation (The New York Times, dir. Ben Proudfoot and Kris Bowers) Best Documentary Short nominee

This short documentary uses the hook of music and its ability to communicate the unspoken as an introduction for a story surrounding up and coming composer Kris Bowers (who co-directs the documentary with Ben Proudfoot) and the historical significance of his current rising star.  Framed as a conversation between Bowers and his grandfather Horace Bowers, A Concerto Is a Conversation allows the elder Bowers to break down for his grandson the reason why his past drive has allowed his grandson to achieve.  Horace Bowers recounts the story of his early life on a plantation in Florida, his literal escape across the country to California, his search for employment that turned into business ownership, and how all of this inspired Kris to chase his dreams.  As an inspirational story and an opportunity for personal testimony in a historical context, the documentary certainly has value and impact, but may find itself happy to just be in the conversation among the likes of such heavy and emotional content.

Do Not Split (Field of Vision, dir. Anders Hammer) Best Documentary Short nominee

No matter what happens for Do Not Split in terms of award season success, this is a film that should not be ignored due to its current relevance on numerous levels.  First and foremost, we are given a glimpse into both modern protesting and modern policing, and how protestors have attempted to counter the militarization of police forces via the implementation of technology and guerilla tactics, which in turn shows viewers how chaos is formed when antiquated tactics are used in the information age.  We are also given a glimpse into how divided the world is becoming socio-politically, with this particular lens turned on the struggles of Hongkongers in China fighting to keep some sort of independence from the mainland while maintaining a true freedom of expression.  Based on political and power shifts surround China, Hong Kong and Great Britain, the common ground is already unstable, and Do Not Split gives insight into how the aforementioned freedom of speech is slowly being turned into a privilege based on class or ideology, rather than a universal right.  Viewers are also given education and context surrounding the 5 Demands, calls for political reformation, and the eventual National Security Law implemented during the early stages of the COVID-19 pandemic.  While the score does teeter a bit on the overly-cinematic side, it does sell how drastic the situation is in Hong Kong.  Director Anders Hammer presents us with a documentary saturated in brutal truth that is captured in an intimate and unflinching manner.

Hunger Ward (MTv, dir. Skye Fitzgerald) Best Documentary Short nominee

The juxtaposition of aesthetic creative beauty and true life human tragedy never ceases to amaze me in terms of how compelling it can be, and Hunger Ward continues this tradition in terms of both technical prowess and subject matter.  The film is possibly the most traditional documentary of the bunch outside of Do Not Split, and while I doubt it had the budget of A Song for Latasha (which is my guess based solely on it being a Netflix project), it cannot be ignored how well composed and visceral nearly every shot is.  When it comes to the subject matter, the topic of malnutrition in Yemen is certainly jarring for the uninformed, and with the lack of resources available in the war-torn region due to the nearly decade long civil conflict, the stress and emotional wear and tear the volunteers is truly unimaginable.  Skye Fitzgerald steps back and takes a hard look at the situation in an observational manner, allowing the state of the malnourished victims and the stress of those attempting to care for them speak volumes.  The documentary is not an easy watch, but for anyone unaware of what life is like in a Third World country, it may be necessary in order to allow the broadening of world perspective to occur on a viewer by viewer basis.

A Love Song for Latasha (Netflix, dir. Sophia Nahli Allison) Best Documentary Short nominee

Lately, Netflix has been establishing itself as a force in the documentary world, and I believe part of this dominance has to do with the extremely cinematic recreations these documentaries use to depict events from the past.  Based on this observation, it makes total sense that Netflix would pick up A Love Song for Latasha, an ode to former South Central Los Angeles resident and race-based violence victim Latasha Harlins directed by Sophia Nahli Allison.  The death of Harlins, who was killed in the Empire Liquor Market just under two weeks after the beating of Rodney King, was a key element in the buildup to the L.A. riots, and normally when she is mentioned it is in this light.  What is great about Nahli Allison’s memorial documentary, however, is that we are given recollections and memories that not only humanize Latasha Harlins, but recontextualize the environment and interactions leading up to the riots in a way that can give outsiders a deeper understanding of why the race-based violence erupted on such a massive scale.  The stories are told in a testimonial manner rather than an interview style, very similar to the This Is Actually Happening podcast, and the method is a powerful companion to the artistic footage and animations that make up the visual stimulus.  The competition in this category is some of the fiercest of the night, but A Love Song for Latasha is a strong contender to bring an Oscar back home.

Feeling Through (Omeleto, dir. Doug Roland) Best Live-Action Short nominee

What a thought-provoking and compelling film, not to mention groundbreaking in ways that many possibly wouldn’t recognize, specifically the fact that casting DeafBlind actor Robert Tarango may mark the first occurrence of a DeafBlind actor in a leading role.  His extremely natural presence, physicality and innate spatial awareness would give one the sense that he is an actor simulating deafness and blindness well, and his chemistry with co-lead Steven Prescod is impossible to ignore.  Prescod’s Tereek characterization gives a tale of a homeless young man attempting to find a safe place to sleep for the night, which could make a compelling short film in itself, but his journey of discovery via his intense immersion and understanding into the world of Tarango’s Artie opens up avenues of sacrifice, self-discovery and humanitarian understanding that make accepting viewers better people at the completion of the short film than when they began it.  If we start to see the name of writer and director Doug Roland attached to major projects in the next few years, don’t be surprised, because if he has any ability to transition his knack for storytelling into the realm of the feature length film, we are all in for possible treats in the future.  For a deeper look into the process of making Feeling Through, and the real-life events that inspired the film, seek out the short behind the scenes documentary Connecting the Dots.

The Letter Room (Salaud Morisset, dir. Elvira Lind) Best Live-Action Short nominee

The Letter Room has a number of things going for it that make it crystal clear why it finds itself nominated for an Oscar.  First and foremost, to address the obvious, the inclusion of Oscar Isaac in anything immediately gives you a quality boost across the board, and Isaac is doing some of his nuanced best work in this short.  The film also looks absolutely great, with its cold and institutionalized look that is further hardened by the cold color temperature applied.  The character building done for Richard is immediate but impactful, as we learn he is observant, pensive, kind-hearted and motivated in relatively short order and in the natural flow of events.  The story is an engaging one that manages to present a number of emotional tones without having to resort to standard prison fare such as violence, sexual tension, terrorism, the exploitation of human labor and so on.  The score, in tandem with the vocal performances that accompany the letter text, transitions viewers into another world within the world of the film without us even realizing it.

The Present (Netflix, dir. Farah Nabulsi) Best Live-Action Short nominee

If one were pressed to find a palatable illustration of how trauma is formed by negative experiences that occur when young minds are most impressionable, I’d point them in the direction of The Present, a Palestinian short from from director Farah Nabulsi.  While crossing an Israeli border in hopes of finding his wife an anniversary present in Bethlehem, Yusef finds himself searched and detained, all in front of the eyes of his daughter Yasmine.  In the wake of the stressful event, Yusef attempts to complete his romantic gesture (not to mention supply his family with a much needed appliance upgrade) while continuing to be aware of his daughter’s extremely fragile emotional state.  In a short and efficient span of time, the narrative presented brings up thought-provoking reflections on humanity, authority and sensitivity with style and grace, which is all the more impressive when one realizes that the checkpoint scenes were shot verite’, guerilla style.  Like the other nominees in the Live-Action Short category, the appeal to humanity is extremely powerful, and it sticks with you long after the film is completed.

Two Distant Strangers (Netflix, dir. Travon Free, Martin Desmond Roe) Best Live-Action Short nominee

Of all the nominees for Best Live-Action Short, I can confidently say that Two Distant Strangers had the biggest direct impact on me.  Tension between the Police and Black Americans is certainly nothing new, with much of that tension having been baked into the origins of Police as a national institution created in response to newly freed slaves, but what really makes this film poignant is the timing, with 2020 showing absolutely no let-up in the occurrence of these incidents despite an on-going pandemic and shelter-in-place orders.  Using the formula made iconic by Groundhog Day, directors  Travon Free and Martin Desmond Roe are able to make some striking points on how frustratingly impossible curbing these killings seems, no matter what one does on a personal or neighborly level to change things.  In displaying how fruitless the venture seems, we are indirectly reminded of the many, many incidents that have claimed the lives of Black Americans unjustly, only to be directly reminded by a credit crawl prior to the acting and production credits rolling.  If you find yourself struggling to understand the perspective of #BlackLivesMatter supporters, or even those who may not wholly agree with that specific movement but voice their very real concerns about being Black in America, a film like Two Distant Strangers can help put one into the state of mind that Black America finds so hard to make real for others.

[HM] [NSFW] How To Stay Single By Being Yourself

I listened to her pack into the MUNI train, and before I lost her in a tunnel, I said, “Sayonara, sardine.”

What a thing to say to someone with whom you’ve never actually occupied the same space, at least to my knowledge. The whole pace of my life seems to be this way nowadays. A skip or a glitch or a miss, or a drunk wrong turn into the wrong drunk person to kiss. Then I slip into another relationship, another year lost monogamous with the wrong person, until I’m my old single self again, masturbating and playing video games for virtual and spermal accomplishments. Until it’s just sad and no longer nostalgic, and I give it up again and move on to taking placebo capsules, more commonly known as vitamins, trying to better myself, eat healthy; when I know in my heart, whether or not it’s connected to a clogged left anterior descending artery, I’ll die just the same. The antithesis of delusions of grandeur, whatever that is. Plus those aren’t things I should indulge in or contemplate anyway, and by now I should have been more than this, but at least it’s good I don’t have kids or a second mortgage, but then comparatively to happier lives than mine, maybe it isn’t.

Responsibilities warped, and I’m honestly just complacent. Had one insightful shroom trip three years ago, camping at the base of Mt. Baldy, ending in three friends coming down from the trip repeating the word ‘comfort’ in harmony, which really stuck with me, and now making enough money so I can afford things that might impress a woman so she’ll sleep with me - because I lack a societally accepted masculine personality, and the accompanying physique - doesn’t seem all that important. Unless she’s gorgeous, thinks I’m funny, holds my doors open for me, and makes sure I cum before her. Because she’s an all giving goddess who’s ultra into reversing the roles. Now I’m the one wearing the bra and being neglectful, and she’s the one that’s fearful I’ll leave her if she’s not careful; if she can’t become my idea of the perfect woman, which could only mean that she’s not really special, not to me or anyone. My 'I’ve truly lost touch with reality' true love. Imagine that. Even when I’m not really with anybody I can’t take a breath for myself. Romantically imaginative, removed but attached. Really I’m just a Little Bitch, but I capitalize the L and the B in that shit. I own my label. It’s my religion, my race, my gender, my age, and my sexual orientation, fluidly. It’s my username on Fetlife, but the original was taken, so I’m LittleBitchFoRealTho. Even though the trained eye would see that’s too many characters. And I don’t know why I have the urge to say this, but, stay woke.

Then I snapped out of it, took a minute to think of all the years I wasted lasting seconds during sex, for months at a time, counting down the femtoseconds until the relationship ends in high entropy. Either overpraised or overfed. Or not needed at all. Just a one night stand, just a bed, just a friend, not even with benefits, just a dude to bring home so she doesn’t have to yet accept and admit to her parents that she’s a lesbian.

Get older, continue to get high, watch The Neverending Story for the thousandth time, and go to bed early. Learning to be lonely. Perpetually a dude currently writing this, sitting in a room, in an apartment with rent that’s ridiculous, if you happen to measure and calculate the cramped square footage, and compare it to how much you’re paying for it. Surrounded by objects that are purely conditional, and those conditions seem to occur few and far between. So everything I bought off Amazon Prime is all essentially useless, but can be delivered in two days, so that it can more quickly begin to lose the factor of novelty, before becoming still life garbage you seemingly involuntarily keep, imbued with a memory of a compelling spell of clicking, which megamorphed into sentimental value, and you only have those hardcovers on your bookshelf to cast the illusion that you’re well-rounded.

In actuality, I’m only rewriting this over and over again, trying to make this ludicrous literature perfect, while experiencing acute mood shifts. Sometimes my phone dies and I lose the latest revision, gone and lost in contextual oblivion. Metaphysically tired in my lazy mind’s lazy eye, from the eternal uphill-pushing of enormous proverbial boulders. A hugely hubristic, bush league, satirical Sisyphus with a creator complex, writing this self-stated, social paradigm shifting content, while in tangible social settings I’m mostly pocketing my psychic two cents. Then keeping my hands in my pockets so my palms sweat, standing far away from her and her friends after she ran over to them, next to a giant metallic cone with a screen in it at the California Academy of Sciences, reading the ticket that admits us into the Planetarium. Skip to the next awkward moment, I finally walk over, because she looked at me like I’m an idiot, we stand in a rhombus and start talking. One friend says, “Hey, nice to meet you”. Then a dainty, moist squeeze of the hands, then release, but no relief, more anxiety, but I manage to speak, “It’s nice to meet you too, Peaches.” I swear that was her name.

I’m saving up to win the spiritual lottery, or just waiting: to die, to fall asleep, perchance to wet-dream. While in my periphery I’m watching Clueless and wishing someone would text me back. As if. Because I sent you this, so I’ll probably never hear from you again, person reading this. A person I can only describe as: a secluded echo, an eclipsed moon, December blue. Soft eyes, no vacancy. Wild ride. You.

Anyway, if you’re still with me, what I’ve been trying to say, lately things seem to go a certain way for me. It’s not bad or good, it’s just causing me to think a little more introspectively. Any remorse for my interactions that may boil up is immediately self-medicated with cannabis that is meant to take the place of dopamine, when in reality I haven’t accomplished a single thing. I’m just sitting here making up silly stories, pretending I’d be content if this was it, nothing more than this. Monotony, mixed with heaven sent absurdity that turns into comedy, or social awkwardness at my day job that on the first and fifteenth of the month turns into money. Which goes to rent and other pointless expenses. If I want to attempt to have sex, gotta pay for dates, probably somewhere expensive, to distract her from fact that one of my ears is lower and points in a different direction.

Then when I’m on these dates, I have to be witty, charming, funny; because I personally believe that’s all I have going for me, and my psychiatrist agrees. I have to be somewhat up kept, overall hygienic, clean my apartment, just in case... you know...I die, or she wants to comes over. Buy a new toothbrush, new socks, deodorant, maybe a tie, get a goofy one while you’re shopping for an outfit at Goodwill, one that isn’t too large or too goofy looking, so as not to appear homeless. Not too drunk or too stoned to not keep up the walls, keep on the mask, perpetuate the facade, go on and on about what you do, where you’re from, but what’s really going on is you’re dancing around the fact that awkwardness is preferable to loneliness, but neither of you are out rightly addressing it, just discussing hobbies you aren’t really all that active in, and all you really want is to put on your favorite song, which is Love is a Battlefield, really loud, and be physically close to another person, preferably naked.

But flaws and awkwardness always win; until you consider and accept that death is the ultimate end, after getting real deep about it during a stoned conversation while listening to The Mars Volta with your old high school friends. Start to contemplate the concept of non-existence, then live your life according to that premise; which I don’t, but then do, too, paradoxically.

A view loosely based on the Tegmark take on quantum immortality, transmuted with my own half-baked multiverse theory recipe, tossed into the ethereal 8-Qt Crock-Pot, on low for 8 hours, alchemically cooking up the basic tenets of my life’s philosophies, stirring occasionally. It’s basically the idea that you can’t actually perceive yourself dying, but everyone else around you experiences your death in that universe’s reality. So for them you’re dead, then either cremated, ashes scattered in the hot tub at your grandparents old house in Walnut while the new occupants are in it. Or buried next to your brother, whose epitaph reads, “Who wants to match on a blunt and smoke out Jesus and Dezi Arnaz when we get to heaven, and why is it getting so hot all of a sudden?”, because my brother’s pretty funny when I write his made up epitaph for him. Or better than both disintegration or side-by-side a sibling in a graveyard; your will states your wishes to be taxidermied, morbidly displayed out in the most visible part of the back lawn, to been seen from a plethora of windows, forever staged reading Infinite Jest, which you never actually finished when you did exist there; until your family moves on emotionally and stores you in the basement next to your Pokémon card collection that never evolved into anything worth anything, much like a lvl 100 Luvdisc.

Where was I? Oh yeah. More bad dates with minutely modified bad outcomes, that would not have come to pass if you hadn’t eaten as many croissants as you did in your past life. Your colon couldn’t love handle it. Now new you figured out ways to continue perpetuating lies, to yourself and others, until again you’re caught in one of them by someone that you spoke spurious, rehearsed lines to, and then somehow learned to love. Another burnt bridge, move on to next place, the next job, the next “one”. Why not? Repeat the pattern. It seems you’ll always fill your life up with made up obstacles and the subsequent distractions, because it’s easier to hide behind another person’s life and pretend you don’t have one. Now their problems are yours, but they’re not as smart as you to handle them, says you. So you express another misplaced emotional reaction, then the inevitable detachment. In your mind it’s the proverbial 'them' all talking about you behind your back, even though they haven’t really thought about you since; but you hear it all in your head, overwhelmingly, a profound paranoid pounding, a feedback loop of an empty orchestra laughing; about all the stuff she knows about you, and told them, and they believe it to be it true, about you doing silly stuff with your penis that you thought would never leave the room.

“You can’t think your way out of a prison that is made of thought.”

- Krishna Das

Then you remember, sometimes if you say the name given to a person later in life because of a spiritual rite, read directly after the last word of a sentence from a quote associated with them, it produces a near rhyme. Sometimes things are just meant to be, two people are destined to meet, destined to be best friends who are silly on purpose, yes-and everyone, and massage each other’s feet. Running on unconditional love, and when we’re drunk it’s always fun and she doesn't end up cheating. If only.

No but really, I hope this was fun to read. Just some real, taboo, and personal themes that hopefully lead to giggles and genuine feelings, simultaneously. Because that’s really what I’m all about, inherently, though sometimes disrespectfully, but I promise it’s not done intentionally. I’m simply digging deeply into the collective unconscious, and sharing all the treasures that I pull out. Because I always pull out, can’t stand a condom: latex, sheepskin, my ego; doesn’t matter. I can’t help but rawly share it and impregnate you with honesty.

A component of my soul, a moment, a stream of consciousness built upon the general thought of a person I could have been and may become. An influence I feel could be a friend - because I swear on the grave of a man named Lasso who lives on the astral plane, who doesn’t know how to dance, but if you know how to ask, will grant you the ability to always know the exact location of the nearest bathroom - that I’m only trying to gain a little understanding so I can be compatible with another person. It’s that simple. I’m the grey hat traversing the gray areas. The one who doesn’t know the proper rules on when to use which spelling of gray, so he always puts both variations of grey in a sentence. So a train of thought came after a disconnection on a train elsewhere, which caused me to think, write and edit this every night until three in the morning for an ever increasing amount of weeks, repeating a pattern so as not to repeat, trying to see if there’s something to glean that’ll lead me to love in this reality. All because I listened to her pack into the MUNI train, and before I lost her in a tunnel, I said, “Sayonara, sardine.”

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After the Fact is the accompanying book to an exhibition at Tullie House Museum & Art Gallery between 30.04.05 and 03.07.05. The curator discusses the intent of this exhibition and how it varies from the standard. She should be explaining the links between work, artist, and world in an authoritative manner but here she wants to keep with the artists work an theme which meant it is intended to question the absoluteness of knowledge, to reveal the subjectivity and unreliability of witness to facts - including us in the remembering of them. The curator relates this exhibition to the teaching of Michel Foucault (a French philosopher historian of ideas, social theorist, and literary critic in which he addressed the relationship between power and knowledge, and how they are used as a form of social control through societal institutions). According to him, the common sense world in which we live in should not be taken as a given, but should be questioned in all its aspects, including the very basic notions that we understand to be reasonable or ‘true’. Reason and truth, he said, are relative rather than absolute concepts, and should be understood within their historical, social and cultural contexts. I feel this matches up well in a very coincidental way to my project proposal and its mood/theme as well as the ideas of previously research artists especially Ai Weiwei’s. They have seen this idea of appreciating, and loving, society while still being able to be critical of the flaws they see fit. This is where the element of giving a spotlight comes in, its about raising an issue into the limelight and attention of the public. Providing something based on facts is a clever way of transcribing messages. The use or lack of such can really poke an audiences mind in engaging a response to the work. The work by Thomas Demand (a German sculptor and photographer) is mainly photography based. He has this notion of removing data, facts or anything that is familiar to us as information from a creation of a scene. He builds these specific scenes which detach themselves from reality. The angle and soft ‘spotlight’ lightning of his photos really create this odd sense of mismatch in scale. They feel separated from reality and this is highlighted by any factual details being removed. It feels blank like its create for a live-action puppet tv show or something. Its still powerful though, we can imagine what all those files are hiding or what all those thrown papers on the floor talked about. It discusses in some sense the political uncertainty as well as the disorganisation of our leadership. In another sense it talks about the mass of data we collect and how easy it is for us to forget. Thinking in terms of memories we often struggle to remember the details on pages in books instead our mind makes a simpler version. This twist in the truth is shown through the blankness which echo that struggle of the human memory. The paper likely used over anything digital to show the issues within human brain compared to the perfectness of a computer storage.  This all invites the audience's mind to fill in the gaps. Its inviting them to look deeper into this 2D photo to search for the truth and thr statements on the issues within. In a way its asking them to search for data, but with a lack of no data our brain links it to other memories. His work identifies human bias. I think there is more work to be produced like his that focus on contrasting the human to the digital. I feel its a keep contextual topic as my generation often uses a digital platform to extend and boost our voices for opinion. I can see two large scale posters being created focusing on dates and time in a 24hr format. In a way this will dehumanise us and really get our memories thinking of why that specific time is so important but it lacks anything that may indeed let the brain makes those connections for the answer. The handwritten one in comparison will be more free with less structure as each line creates a relationship that feels natural or slightly off with the lack of digital measurements and guides while the digitally created one likely to be very structured in a way that pleases the OCD organisation of our mind. Or even something more conceptual. I can see a large scale piece of multiple towers of stack paper where different sizes layers are connected by plasters that hold them together like a ring binder. It feels very human and caring with the connotations of the plasters but still official and corporate with the silhouette like corrupt corporate towers with dodgy government foundations that result in the papers not stacked neatly. I know there is more statistics in this world i could focus on. I feel very inspired to sketch out different ideas on how i could visualise data in an artistically conceptual way which can result in this contrast between meaning and superficiality. This could be a way to provoke a physical response in an easy manner. Simply showing the scale of our data collection could be quite shocking in how much truth it holds. Or it could be identifying data that we are simply blind too, like all the card data on receipts that records our very purchase down to the second and pence. This would probably make people begin to question what is really being recorded of us, and where does it all go. All those cookies everyone uses online and suddenly adverts pop up for those trousers you liked or that new music video. Its like the government isn't just a big brother anymore but a stalker. But because its things we want to see we don’t question where this data about our individuality is being stored. Are we not just merely a number to the governments database and servers?

24/05/2017

Informed my work by telling me and setting in concrete the idea of data in a human created digital society. It really inspired me to look into how we process and categorise the world. The flower fetish work looks at how humans have forced a system of rules upon something described as wild. Plants move as they want but we often cut them down to create the vision we want. Upon that we give them names to help us process the mass of variations and data in a way our brain can cope with the scale of the universe. This also inspired by process with the terrorism data and upon that investigating the personal details from receipts which shopping habits and tracking details can build a person profile up alone. Really inspired me to discuss the amount and scale of data in society and how it interacts with our everyday lives in my work.