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allsassnoclass · 4 years

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Prompt: 28, 10 and Lashton

You said lashton in an art gallery. I said Off-Screen circa 2017 (aka Luke’s Utah Era). this might feel a little out of context, because it is. the theoretical prequel that I'm writing would explain more of the surrounding circumstance, but the most important thing to note is that Luke moved in with Ashton in Utah after the end of the SLFL tour. This takes place in January of 2017.

lashton: “Where are all of my hoodies? Did you borrow literally every single one of my hoodies?” + art gallery

The last guest has left when Luke arrives, the gallery technically beginning to close for the night. Ashton is tired, all of the frantic energy from the past few months building up to this evening of schmoozing and revealing the deepest parts of his soul to be judged by the art community, and he feels empty now that it has passed. There’s a glass of some sort of fancy alcohol in his hand, but he hasn’t had the chance to drink it all night, and his suit feels like it doesn’t fit his shoulders correctly. It’s been bothering him, but he’s been too focused on smiling genially and making nice with every single person who passed through the doors to look at his art to do anything about it.

The sound of the main doors opening is loud in the quiet of the space, and Ashton tenses where he’s talking to the owner of the gallery. He relaxes once he sees that it’s not another art snob or a random person who got lost, but Luke. He stands at the threshold awkwardly, fiddling with the hem of one of Ashton’s college hoodies, beanie stuffed unceremoniously over his hair. It’s getting longer, and he’s been letting it curl more instead of spending hours styling it and trying to get it to sit right.

He looks just as breathtaking as ever, and Ashton is almost overwhelmed with how lucky he feels to be one of the only people to see famous rockstar Luke Hemmings with his guard completely down.

“Luke,” he sighs, relief too obvious. Luke just smiles and wanders, stopping short when something in a painting catches his eye.

“Friend of yours?” the gallery owner asks, and Ashton turns his attention back to her. It’s too easy to forget that anyone else exists the moment Luke enters a room. Ashton needs to get a grip.

“Yeah, that’s my housemate. Do you mind if we look around for a bit? He couldn’t make the normal gallery times.”

He logistically could have, because Luke doesn’t have responsibilities here in Utah, but Ashton knows that the idea of him having to look nice, be in a crowd of people, and possibly be recognized almost sent him into a panic attack.

“Sure. I’m locking up by 10, though, so be out before then.”

Ashton thanks her profusely, and the look she gives him is a bit too knowing for his taste. Still, she heads towards the back with an artistic grace, and Ashton joins Luke where he’s staring at one of Ashton’s paintings.

“Hi,” he says quietly. Luke leans into him in a practiced move, shoulders brushing together. Luke has always been familiar and comfortable, despite how little they see each other.

Ashton knows he should feel bad that Luke felt so lost in LA that he had to come all the way to Utah and Ashton to try and find himself, but selfishly he’s glad. For a few months, he gets Luke to himself, curled up on his couch and eating at his kitchen island instead of off traveling the world and meeting adoring fans. Besides, having Luke here helps. Ashton can’t take care of another person if he’s drunk every night, and meals are easier to prepare when there are two people to eat them. It’s easier to fall asleep if someone else is breathing slowly next to him. It’s easier to keep the loneliness at bay with Luke stepping into the gaps in his life.

“Was it a good showing?” Luke asks.

“It was,” he replies, resisting the urge to do something inappropriate like pull Luke closer and tuck his face into his neck just to breathe him in. “I even sold a few paintings.”

“You did?” Luke lights up. “Ashton, that’s amazing! Which ones? Wait, I want to see them all anyway. Walk me through them as we go.”

Ashton does, trying his best to remember the thought process and inspiration behind each of the paintings hanging in the gallery. For the earlier works it’s easier, because objects inside are more defined and they have clearer stories. For recent creations featuring bold strokes and swirls of color and more ambiguous shapes, the inspirations shift towards ideas. Some of them he created while drunk, and he has to check the title cards to figure out what he was going for, because while drunk Ashton isn’t good for much, he at least always writes titles in his notes app when he paints.

His professors made him include some of those works, saying that a few are profound and mesmerizing and probably your best work. It makes Ashton feel like he can’t create anything if he doesn’t have a few drinks in him. It’s a mindset he’s trying to move away from, but it’s hard. At least he has endless inspiration with Luke in the house.

Luke looks at a piece entitled Longing for a few minutes, and Ashton prays that he doesn’t ask who or what he was longing for while painting it.

“Come on,” he says when the swirl of blues and purples (with just that shimmer of gold to represent the person of desire, possibly forming a hazy constellation of Luke to anyone who knows what to look for) becomes too much. “I want to show you the synesthesia section.”

“Section” is a generous term, because it’s actually just four paintings on the same wall. He has many more paintings for various songs and albums back home, most of them on smaller canvases he can get from the craft store, but there are a few songs that evoke such strong, beautiful visuals that he had to paint them properly.

The first painting has a primarily blue background, mixing with black in short strokes by the edges. Traveling diagonally across the canvas are an assortment of other colors, mostly yellows and reds until they meet strokes of white in the middle. The paint is thick, creating textured mountains where the colors meet, and that’s Ashton’s favorite part about painting, really. He’s not very good at 3D forms, but paint never lays completely flat. He likes how dynamic it is because of it.

“Gravity,” Luke croons as he looks, “is working against me.”

Ashton loves hearing him sing. He was worried for those first few weeks Luke came to him, because he rarely heard it, but now he can count on random melodies filling the house at all hours.

“John Mayer makes nice songs to look at,” he says. Luke smiles at him, then they move on to the next one.

This painting has a bit more variety in color. Ashton remembers mixing them on his pallet, unbothered by the streaks it caused in the brush strokes, knowing that it was necessary to capture what the song makes him see. A dark background gives way to a curve of reds, purples, pinks, blues, ending in some greens and yellows and a hint of orange. He splattered white and black on afterwards, just a little bit near the middle of the curve, and Luke leans forward to see all the small dots.

“This one really does look like ‘Karma Police,’” Luke says. “Even I can see it.” He straightens and gives Ashton another grin, and he knows that he can’t capture that smile in a painting (he’s tried, so many times), but he still wants to attempt it again.

“I can’t believe how talented you are,” Luke says. “It’s almost unfair.”

“Thanks,” he says, ducking his head. Luke nudges him with his elbow and moves on to the next painting. This one follows a similar pattern to the other two, a dark background with color in the middle, but it’s messier. Blue and purple feature the most, but there are hints of orange and yellow, and white overtakes the painting in peaked chunks and thin streaks.

“You’d think that for a Prince song, there’d be a bit more purple,” Luke says, tilting his head.

“Maybe he should have written more purple songs, then,” Ashton shrugs. “‘Joy in Repetition’ has more blue.”

“Wait, is “Purple Rain” even purple?” Luke asks, alarmed.

“Yes, that one fits the title.” Luke looks reassured at that, and they continue to the last painting. Ashton feels nerves clench in his stomach.

He didn’t submit any of his photographs or colored pencil sketches of Luke, not even the really good one of Luke sleeping in his bed with an arm over his face that Ashton drew one night when the insomnia was hitting him hard, but this painting could be just as damning. It’s different from the other three because it’s slightly bigger and oriented differently, vertical instead of horizontal. The background is also based in white instead of black, primarily creating a pale blue to match the cautious optimism of the song. More blue meets with seafoam green, peach, and white in the middle, dripping down the canvas until all the colors fade into just the green. The lines of this one are smoother, blended together evenly, but there are bursts of gold in the middle and near a few edges that he bought a specific brand of metallic paint for. Ashton watches as Luke’s eyes trace the painting before he turns to the name card.

“Luke?” he asks when a few moments have gone by with him completely frozen.

“Really?” Luke asks, voice cracking. “This is what you see?”

“Yeah,” Ashton says. He knew he was going to end up painting the song as soon as he first heard Luke’s voice singing about tasting the ocean. “It’s mostly “Outer Space,” but I incorporated some of what I saw for “Carry On” at the bottom.”

“Oh,” Luke says, then turns and tucks himself into a hug, squeezing Ashton tight enough that he feels short of breath. Ashton wraps his arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer and letting Luke cuddle into him in a way that he’s almost getting too big for.

“I take it you like it?” he asks, just to be sure. Luke nods, and when he does finally pull away he swipes at his eyes with the sleeve of Ashton’s sweatshirt.

“Can I buy it?” he asks.

“Luke, you can have it for free.” Luke shakes his head vigorously.

“No, you’ve already given me too much. I want to buy it from you. You should be paid for your art.”

“Okay,” Ashton says quietly. Luke’s eyes are still fixed on the painting, and Ashton comes back to slide a hand around his waist again. “We can negotiate a price later.” He presses a kiss to Luke’s temple, because that’s something he can get away with still.

“Don’t try to give me a discount. I’ve already stolen your food and half your clothes.”

“Speaking of,” Ashon says, “I’m absolutely positive that this hoodie was the last one in my closet. Where are all my hoodies? Did you borrow literally every single one of my hoodies?”

“Yeah,” Luke says sheepishly. “They’re comfortable. They smell like you.”

Luke is going to kill him like this. Ashton can’t even be upset, because what a way to go, but things like that are not helping him keep a lid on how absolutely head-over-heels he is.

“I’d be more upset if you didn’t look so good in them,” Ashton says before he can stop himself. Luke’s breathing stutters, but he doesn’t do anything besides lean a little closer. Ashton’s heart feels like it’s going to beat out of his chest.

“Come on,” Luke says. “I still want to see the rest of your pieces, then we can go home.”

Home, Ashton repeats to himself. Luke thinks of your house as his home.

They wander their way through the last few canvases, then stop briefly in the photograph and colored pencil room before stepping out onto the street. Their hands brush as they walk, and Ashton wonders if he can get away with grabbing Luke’s. This night feels significant in so many ways. Something has shifted, and he’s not sure if it has to do with his art career or the man beside him. He wants it to be both so badly he aches with it.

When they have two more blocks to go before reaching the house, Luke reaches over and threads their fingers together.

A/N: I don’t have synesthesia, but the first three song paintings really exist and can be found here. the one for os/co was made up by me.

#my writing #lashton #drabble #off-screen #this just set multiple things in stone that were undetermined before today #but when (if) I ever write the prequel things could shift and change #also this Ashton has synesthesia. the kind where he can see music #also me writing the piece with os/co: 'oh Helen isn't going to like this'#ugh I had something else I was going to say about this but now I've forgotten #this is a little treat for the people who follow me here after reading it because this is not going on ao3 until after the prequel #off screen

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xxpadfootxx · 4 years

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🐾Won’t Leave You: Chapter 12 (The Lightning & the Flame)🐾

A/N: This is the last chapter of this series! Thank you for reading it all the way through, I applaud you if you’ve stuck with it this far 😂anyway, I’m sorry if this series has not been on par with my other work, this was my first work ever and I haven’t edited it in ages 😂Regardless, it was fun to write and I am grateful for you guys for reading it!

~~~

Ochako stared up at the plain, unassuming door that she knew belonged to Izuku Midoriya. Her heart was racing and her palms were sweaty but she was excited. She wanted to stay with him this weekend as they used to, hanging out and making snacks while binging a show like Criminal Minds or Sherlock Holmes, trying to guess what happens by using crazy theories to come up with the most outrageous solutions. This time, she could feel it, was different but she wanted to make this trip with him feel as normal as possible. Taking a deep breath to boost her resolve and wiping her hands on her pants, Ochako stepped up to the door and knocked. It only took a few moments before a beaming Izuku stood in the doorway, his hair even messier than usual and his eyes bright with excitement.

“You’re here!” Izuku exclaimed, moving to the side and motioning with his hand toward the inside of his home. Ochako smiled back at him, her nervousness forgotten and strode past him and into the house. She looked around as she stepped into a narrow hallway that opened up towards the back into what she assumed was the kitchen area. The floors were made up of smooth wooden planks that ran the length of the house in neat vertical lines while the walls simply complimented the space with a cream paint color. She peered down the hallway and immediately spotted Izuku’s room which was labeled with a large sign in the shape of All Might’s hair followed by a door that she assumed was the bathroom. Izuku walked up beside her and leaned down with his hand extended.

“Would you like me to take your things?”

Ochako smiled down at him and took a step back, bowing lavishly.

“I thank you, my lord, for this outstanding service.”

Izuku bowed back without hesitating, a smile teasing the corner of his lips.

“Anything for the queen.”

He then scooped up her bag and jacket before trotting off down an extension of the hall to drop it off in her room. He came back a moment later, finding Ochako in the living room.

“It isn’t much, but it's home,” Izuku said with a satisfied nod.

“It’s perfect,” Ochako said, spinning in a slow circle around the living room before plopping down on the couch. She sighed and ran her fingers over the soft couch cushions, relaxing fully into the comfortable seat.

“So, what should we do now?” Ochako asked, glancing at Izuku who was watching her with a bright smile.

“Let me think…”

___________________________________

Their clothes lay scattered all over the floor. The room was dimly lit and the curtains were drawn, the nearby streetlights casting weak golden rays into the dark room. The blankets were rumpled and the pair were comfortably snuggled up to one another.

“Wow, that was fantastic.”

“I know right? That was really fun!”

“I’m glad you liked it, I was a little worried you’d be disappointed in me.”

“Izuku...” Ochako turned to her friend and raised her eyebrow. “I would never be disappointed in you just because you choose a bad movie. I’m happy just to hang out with you! But this movie was not a disappointment at all, I can’t believe I’ve never seen that!”

Izuku smiled and winked at her.

“Good I’m glad you liked it, Ochako.”

Izuku yawned and stretched his arms above his head, groaning as his joints popped.

“I’m exhausted though, think it’s time for bed?”

Ochako nodded. She was a little worried about tonight especially since she was sleeping in a new place but she had faith that she could be comforted by Izuku’s presence alone, even if they were in different bedrooms.

“Yeah, I’m pretty tired too,” Ochako stood up, stretching her arms as well, her pajama shirt riding up to reveal a little bit of her waist, before rolling her shoulders and bending down to help Izuku up. Izuku took her hand and pulled himself up, stumbling back a little and brushed off his pants.

“Alright so, we do not have a guest bedroom and my mom’s bed isn’t the most comfortable so you can stay in my room if you want. Don’t worry, I’ve cleared out most of the All Might memorabilia for you so it shouldn’t be too overwhelming.” Izuku rubbed the back of his head and glanced at the floor again, his cheeks gaining more of their ever-present red hue.

“Thanks, Deku, but you really don’t have to give up your space for me, I am fine sleeping in an uncomfortable bed, it can’t be that bad can it?”

“No, I insist. You are not causing any trouble by being in my room. I’ve already put your stuff in there anyway.”

Ochako shook her head but smiled at him.

“Thanks, Deku.” They stared at each other for a moment until Ochako broke the silence, blushing. “Alright, well I better go get ready.”

Izuku nodded and gave her a small wave.

“Goodnight!”

“Goodnight.”

The pair parted ways as Ochako headed into Izuku’s room for the night. When she walked in, she was amazed at how much he had removed for her but the wall paint color, bedsheets, and wall art still screamed Izuku’s name with the bright All Might theme. Even dumbed down, it was still kind of an attack on the senses but it was so him. She quickly got used to it and grew more comfortable in the space. She went to bed that night feeling a little less disturbed than usual.

__________________________________________

The scream tore Ochako from her sleep so abruptly that she hit the back of her head on the headboard behind her when she sat up, jolting into a sitting position like a spooked rabbit. She had not been in a deep sleep but she had been in a deeper sleep than in the past few weeks so being shocked into a waking state like this left her disoriented and frightened. Ochako shot out of bed and nearly blasted through the door, racing to the kitchen where she found a large kitchen knife in a knife block on the counter. She whipped around and bolted to Inko Midoriya’s room, knife raised over her head. She shoved open the door and stumbled into the room in her haste to get through the doorway. Her head whipped from side to side, her eyes scanning the room for any sign of danger. Her eyes finally made their way to the bed where she saw Izuku. The green-haired boy was flailing around, his arms raised into the air like a cat when it falls off of a railing and his legs had long ago kicked the blanket to the floor. His breathing was panicked and his mouth was open in a frozen ‘O’ shape. It would have seemed almost comical had it not been for the fear coursing through Ochako’s veins. Ochako slowly began to approach him when he screamed again. The sound sent an ice-cold shower down her spine but this time she actually heard the word that was interlaced with that scream.

“OCHAKO!!!!”

Ochako abandoned all precautions and raced to his side. He screamed her name again as she reached him, unaware that she was right beside him. She could see the sweat beading on his face, the color drained from him like a blank canvas. She tried calling out his name first but when he did not answer she climbed onto the bed near his feet and climbed on top of him. Grabbing his shoulders, she shook him as hard as she could, her own breathing moving so fast that it burned her throat. His skin burned beneath her hands, she could even feel the heat rising from his shirtless chest, his body was feverish. It only took a few seconds before his eyes fluttered open, those bright green eyes full of worry and blinding white fear. She barely had time to release him and move back a little bit before he pounced on her. Ochako squeaked in surprise as his arms wrapped themselves around her body and pulled her as close to him as possible. Ochako felt the knife that had still been latched in her hand drop to the floor with a dull thud. Izuku buried his face in her neck and one of his hands found their way to the back of her head, grasping her hair and rocking her back and forth. Ochako just sat there stunned as Izuku rocked her, sobbing into her hair. After a short while, Izuku sat back, his hands placed on her shoulders so that he could just look at her. His eyes roved all over her face, the intense worry and love in them making Ochako squirm.

“Deku, are you-”

She couldn’t even finish her sentence as he leaned in and kissed her. His lips were sweet and soft but contained an intenseness that took Ochako’s breath away. They fit on hers like the perfect puzzle piece and even though she was surprised beyond belief, she allowed all other thoughts to melt away and let her instincts take over. Ochako closed her eyes and savored the taste of him on her mouth. Suddenly, his warmth was gone and she had to put in real effort to avoid letting out a disappointed sigh. She opened her eyes and saw that Izuku was still holding her shoulders but he was avoiding looking at her face now. He was shaking and his skin was still heated above normal but even in the darkness, she could tell that the color had come back into his face.

“I-I-I I’m s-so s-sorry O-Ochako. I don’t know what came over me, I just had this horrible dream but it wasn’t real and I was just so relieved that I-”

Now it was his turn to be cut off mid-sentence as Ochako leaned in and kissed him back with the same passion as before but more ferocity. Izuku fell back onto his elbows as he released her shoulders and allowed himself to be overtaken by her kiss. They both closed their eyes as Ochako leaned into her actions. After a few moments, Izuku decided to take charge again and leaned forward, pushing Ochako back a little bit so that she was sitting on Izuku’s knees. Ochako sat back a little and uncrossed her legs to wrap them around Izuku’s waist, pressing her chest against his. Taking into account this new development, ignoring all doubts, Izuku tentatively inched his tongue out of his mouth and touched Ochako’s lips in a hesitant question. Her answer was clear as day when she opened her mouth without hesitation, allowing him in. Their tongues were clumsy and hesitant at first but as the pair grew more lustful, they developed a rhythm that evolved into an elaborate dance. One of Izuku’s hands held her steady at the back of her head while the other found the way to Ochako’s hip, his thumb tracing little loops on the skin that had revealed itself at the base of her thin nightshirt. Ochako was on fire, her skin burning with passion and her veins alight with her own self-kindled flame. Izuku felt like lightning, the electricity generated from their passion causing every hair to stand up on his body as it raced through his bones and down to his very core. He felt like he could run forever at the speed of light, his body felt light and airy as if he were floating on fluffy clouds in the sky. Following his heart, Izuku decided to intensify the feeling of heat and electricity between them by activating One for All. Green streaks of lightning skittered across his skin, lighting it so that a dim green glow was cast around the room. He did not use the power behind One for All, he just created a little static between him and Ochako. Izuku’s electricity, both from his quirk and the kiss, kindled Ochako’s flame into a roaring inferno, scorching her inside and out. To others, the kiss may have seemed like something simple, innocent, sweet, but to this pair of young heroes, the kiss was everything they were and who they wanted to be. The kiss flushed out their fears as they poured themselves into every movement and every stroke of their tongues. It represented their frustrations and their longing and their comfort around each other. It displayed their relief to finally find peace. Izuku and Ochako simultaneously rose up on their knees, their bodies pressed against one another and their limbs tangled together as each person tried to hold their partner as close to themselves as possible, afraid to let go. The moment passed after both an eternity and a third of a second, both heroes in training craving more but also a little overwhelmed. The pair broke apart and sat in silence, their heavy breathing being the only sound that filled the room. They waited, their eyes meeting for a brief moment before darting away to look at the blankets or the floor. Ochako suddenly cleared her throat.

“Well, that was... interesting.”

“Was it a bad kind of interesting?”

“No! It was… it was…” Ochako cleared her throat again.

“Incredible.”

Izuku smiled in the darkness and moved a little closer to her.

“I am really sorry about all of this, I didn’t even ask you, and I just kind of jumped on you when all you were trying to do was help me out of a scary situation. I know you just told me you liked it but, I hope I didn’t make you too uncomfortable with all of this. Was I moving too fast?”

Ochako shook her head.

“I have wanted to truly kiss you ever since you kissed me for the first time back in the hospital. We’ve both just been really busy and a lot of traumatic things happened all at once. I have been such a mess for the past few weeks that I didn’t think you’d be comfortable being with someone who is basically the walking dead during the day time with how little sleep I get at night,” she said.

Izuku swallowed loudly and moved even closer to Ochako.

“I, uh, had a dream about that night with the villain, where you almost didn’t make it. I had a dream where I did lose you, where I couldn’t do anything and even though I could feel how close you were to coming back to me, you were just out of reach. This dream scared me so badly, it is the dream I’ve been having consistently for the past few weeks, that when you shook me awake and I saw that you were alive and well, I just had to hold you close to me. I had to prove to myself that this part, you being here and healthy, was not part of the dream.”

Izuku was now close enough to look Ochako in the eyes despite the darkness of the very early morning.

“Once I was one hundred percent sure that your heartbeat was not my imagination, I realized at that moment that I could not let another moment pass where I let my doubts control me, that I could not let another moment pass by where I hesitated and missed the chance to do something with you that I almost lost entirely. You may be alive now but for those few minutes, you were gone and it was for those few minutes that my brain went through not only every moment we’ve ever had together but also all of the things in the future that I was sure would never happen.”

Izuku was glad for the darkness as he blushed a deep red that could only be rivaled by red hot lava.

“Things like hanging out with you, kissing you, going out on dates with you, possibly g-getting m-married someday,” Izuku gulped. “H-having ch-ch-children with you, rising through the hero ranks with you by my side. It is because of this sharp realization, that hit me harder than a bus, that I gained the courage to kiss you. I could not let another moment go by without letting you know how I feel and at that moment, I don’t think words would have done the trick.”

Ochako turned her body to fully face Izuku and raised her hand to cup his cheek. Izuku hesitated but soon did the same.

“Izuku, do not apologize for anything tonight. We have both been through a rough time these past few weeks and although that would not normally be a proper excuse for a surprise kiss on a girl, I believe that our relationship goes beyond that. We had connections way before this villain turned up, the traumatic event just gave us the courage to act on our buried emotions. I am so grateful to have you in my life, you have always given me the strength to fight. Hell! You are the reason I was able to hold up against that villain for so long! I just kept thinking about you, how you would think in that kind of a situation, how you would solve my kind of problem. But I also pictured your dazzling smile and your kind face along with the encouraging words that you always give me that mean so much to me despite probably being small and insignificant to you. Living through that torture would have been a lot more difficult without you.”

Even in the darkness, Ochako could tell that Izuku was crying. Dropping his hands from her cheek, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into a sweet but firm embrace. He was still shaking from earlier but it had been reduced to almost nothing and his breathing was a lot more steady.

“Ochako, you are the strongest person I know. I could not have gone through half of the stuff you did without caving or giving up. You are a flame that never burns out, holding your torch up high no matter how strong the blizzard around you gets. I could never do something like that. Although I am honored, I did not help you survive, you helped yourself by remaining true to who you are. You are the brightest flame in my life and I will fight to protect you from those howling winds for the rest of my life.”

Now it was Ochako’s turn to blush. She buried her face into his chest, his skin warm to the touch and his breathing a soothing rhythm that calmed her fluttering heartbeat.

“I love you Izuku.”

Izuku’s breath caught and Ochako felt her mind cringe, fearing the worst.

“I love you too, Ochako. I always have and I always will.”

The pair released each other and looked at each other for a few seconds longer before Izuku crawled back to the back of the bed. Ochako continued to sit at the foot of the bed as Izuku leaned over and unplugged his phone, turning on the screen to view the time.

“Well, it is 4:00 am right now, it’s time to go back to sleep, don’t you think?”

“Together?”

“Of course,” Izuku said, patting the space beside him. Ochako slowly crawled up to the spot where Izuku had motioned to and curled up there, bringing the blanket up to her chin. Izuku rolled over and curled his body around hers, his hand snaking over the bed until he found hers. He pawed at her hand once in a silent question and Ochako opened her hand. Their palms connected and she wrapped her fingers around his, happy to finally indulge in her feelings for the green-haired cinnamon roll. Her eyelids started to droop and exhaustion began to set in. In no time the two teens were fast asleep, small smiles teasing at the corner of their lips as they allowed all of their worries to melt away into the night.

#mha fanfiction #mha #bnha fanfiction #bnha #izuku x uraraka #ochako x izuku #izuocha-fanfic #IzuOcha #izuku midoriya #urakara ochako #mha ochako #ochako #deku #dekuchako #uravity #my hero academia fanfic #my hero academia

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tiffanychuaartap-blog · 4 years

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ESSAY: Reading the Image

Reading Between the Lines of Santos’s Krista

Pablo Baens Santos is a Filipino artist born in 1943. He studied in the University of the Philippines College of Fine Arts and then worked for the Manila Times as an artist. His work exposed him to the numerous political issues faced by the country. His interest in these issues attributed to each of his artworks and influenced him to be a social realist. In 1975, he established Kaisahan, an association of Filipino artists with the same goal of striving for democratic freedom.

His work Krista was given personally from him to the Arete where it is currently kept. Krista is an oil painting on canvas created by Santos in 1984. It features a woman whose mouth is confined with a barbed wire, whose fist in clenched with one hand holding the other, and whose facial expression signifies discomfort and pain. The background features the Philippine flag and a number of characters who are struggling as well. Krista is Santos’s twist on a depiction of Jesus, or in Filipino, Kristo. While Jesus’ crucifixion portrayed how the palm of his hands were nailed to the cross, Santos’s Krista takes a modern portrayal of how the female subject, who could also be symbolized as the motherland, was also physically tortured.

Analyzing the visual elements of the artwork, one would notice that a combination of actual and implied lines exists. The pressure applied while drawing the actual lines are proportional to the size of the element in the artwork. This could be noticed when comparing the hands of the female subject to those of the hands of the characters behind her. This may imply focus on the female subject, then shifting the attention of the viewers to the background. Another notable pattern in the use of lines is seen in the face and torso of the persona. The straight diagonal lines show the stiff posture of the persona, which can interpret the persona’s desire to move but is impotent of doing so. In terms of shape, there are more organic shapes present than geometric ones. The use of organic shapes signifies the movement of the characters. However, geometric shapes were still apparent specially in the background where the use of geometric shapes aided in the distinction of the Philippine flag.

Santos maximized the lower half of the artwork by filling it with positive space, leaving little to no empty spaces. However, aside from the female subject, the upper half contains more negative space. This recognizes the colors shown in the background which will be discussed later on. This also allows for easier pinpointing of the two characters on top individually compared to the crowd on the lower half. When discussing value and color, it can be seen that Santos utilized a chromatic value, with each color followed with a stroke of the same color but with a different hue to make the artwork seem more realistic. While the artwork mostly revolved around simple and neutral colors, with black, white, and brown repeatedly appearing, a pop of yellow, blue, and red is manifested in the background. Santos’s use of the three primary colors reflect the presence of the Philippine flag behind.

Looking at the composition of the image, Krista is considered more symmetrically balanced with rather few differences. The subject is placed in the middle with a rigid posture, both eyes closed and symmetrical, and with two segments of the barbed wires sticking out from the left and right sides. However, the hands are not symmetrical as one holds the other. Similarly, the elements at the background of both sides are similar to each other as there is one character emerging from the upper portion, as the flag is equal in height and length but different in color, and as the crowd behind the persona are proportionally close to each other but different in terms of expression.

On a viewer’s perspective, the attention first turns to the persona, whose facial expression signifies pain, discomfort, and sorrow. The barbed wire wrapped around the persona’s mouth restricts her from opening her mouth that if she were to speak, the more the barbed wire punctures her skin. Instead, as a response to the pain she is experiencing, she clenches her fist and holds on to it either to pray or to withstand the pain. Due to Santos’s signature strokes to show emphasis, the collarbone is accentuated. This may suggest that the pain felt by the persona may be unbearable. Moving on to the characters behind the persona, the variety in their stance show that they are willing to fight and protest. However, some of the horizontal applied lines imply death among some. On the lower right quadrant, a mother is seen protesting even while carrying a baby. Then, towards the top, the unity of the shapes and colors reveal the Philippine flag with a vertical orientation. If the flag were to be tilted 90 degrees counterclockwise to its proper form, the color red will be placed on top, signifying that the country is at a state of war during this time. The two figures on top add to the unity of the other figures who are protesting.

Pablo Baen Santos’s artworks are brimmed by his signature strokes using colors of a different hue. This allows his works to seem more realistic as it captures the everyday lives and struggle of Filipinos due to the injustice and corruption of the government.

In the contextual aspect, social realism artist Santos denotes the oppression of the Filipinos. Moreover, the date of the artwork (1984) falls between the Martial Law era (1972-1986). Krista is a depiction of the sufferings experienced by Filipinos as they continue to struggle fighting for their freedom of speech. In the year 1984, numerous citizens have fallen victim to the shootings and killings ordered by the government as the citizens continue to fight for their rights. To retain power, the government suppresses any form of rebellion, which involves voicing out concerns about political issues. The crowd behind the persona symbolize those who are protesting. As reflected in Krista, some who have mustered up courage to stand against the government ended up being killed, but this did not stop the many Filipinos who continued to fight. Moreover, barbed wires are usually used to protect a property’s perimeter and to keep the outsiders out. The use of barbed wire in the painting may indicate keeping the public out by silencing their voices or else they get hurt the barbed wires. Similarly, just as how the persona attempts to move but gets hurt further, the public attempt to speak up but are hindered since doing so will cause more pain.

As someone born fifteen years after the end of Martial Law, I could only visualize how Martial Law was and how much the Filipinos have suffered based on the stories I hear, articles I read, and the painting and documentaries I see. Somehow, through Krista, I was able to understand Martial Law in a deeper level. Santos, who has been born before and lived through Martial Law was able to reveal the sad reality fellow Filipinos have gone through over the years. It showed me the bravery of the Filipinos who adamantly stand up for themselves and their fellow countrymen despite the perils faced before them. It also reminded me of how much the country has been through to get to where it is now. Our motherland, the Philippines, has had its mouth covered in barbed wire for many centuries before as colonizers continue to take control of the land and its people. However, the sad truth still remains until today. The political issue Santos has pointed out fifteen years ago is still faced by the Filipinos. The public still continue to struggle to voice out without suffering any consequence. Despite the implication and irony that freedom of speech still has a price to pay, Krista made me more aware of the perseverance of Filipinos and made me appreciate the country more.

Word count: 1332

Works Cited

Artist for Volunteerism : Pablo Baen Santos. (2011). Retrieved July 15, 2020, from http://vsoartistforvolunteerism.blogspot.com/2011/11/artist-for-volunteerism-pablo-baen.html

Krista (Female Christ). (2020, January 04). Retrieved July 15, 2020, from https://ateneoartgallery.com/collections/krista-female-christ

Sescon, A. (n.d.). Sutori. Retrieved July 15, 2020, from https://www.sutori.com/story/from-martial-law-to-marcos-exile--zF6Z2ksP7FSfvfMymg3kpP4i

Artwork’s Details

TITLE: Krista (Female Christ)

ARTIST: Pablo Baen Santos

MEDIUM: Oil on canvas

YEAR: 1984

PROVENANCE: Gift of the Artist

DIMENSION: 90 cm x 121 cm

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gvbejvmes · 4 years

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Drabble: Gabe & Nattie go to Art School

Warnings: PG-13 Relationships: Gabe/Johnny, Gabe/Jillynn, Gabe/Nancy, Gabe&Georgie Characters: Gabe, Natalie, Bella, Johnny, Jillynn (mentioned), Nancy (mentioned), Georgie (mentioned)

Gabe had done some weird things in his life, but he definitely had to say that pushing a stroller through an art trade show on his way to teach a master class was definitely up there. Not only was it surreal, but the fact that there was a six year old perched on a skateboard looking thing attached near the handles definitely made things interesting. This wasn’t Bella’s first time having to sit through an art show. Most days she was attached to his hip. This was, however, Natalie’s first art show.

“Uncle Gabe, are you famous?” She asked as she looked around at all the booths as they were escorted across the main floor.

“Sort of.” He said with a small shrug, not looking down at his soon-to-be step-daughter and instead scanning the area so he doesn’t mow anyone down.

Natalie nodded for a moment. “‘Cause Delia’s on TV?”

He blinked. “No.” He said, not liking where this was going.

“‘Cause you used to be married to someone who’s on the news a lot?”

“No!” He said, now feeling offended. “I’m good at art. So people who like art, and want to be good at art, too, know who I am and I’m famous to them.”

She nodded as they came to a stop in front of a huge vertical banner outside of a ballroom. Gabriel James: Using Alternative Materials in Painting. Underneath it was a painting of a woman’s back made entirely out of liquefied glass. “Uncle Gabe.” Natalie breathed out, bending so she could look up at him. “Did you make that?” She asked staring at the screen-printed rendition of his art.

Gabe couldn’t help but snort. “Don’t sound so surprised, little girl. I am capable of doing things other than just coloring with you.” He said before ruffling her hair affectionately.

“Mr. James?” One of the volunteers greeted them. “I’ve been assigned to help you and your little helpers get set up before the master class begins.” They were lead into the ballroom where half of it looked set up for a seminar, and the other half looked like an Art 101 classroom.

As soon as they were inside, Natalie took off running towards an area off to the side of the stage where a couple of his new pieces were waiting. They were going to be shown off here before they hit the gallery showing next week. “Same rules apply here as in my studio at home. Don’t touch anything unless I say you can.” He called out before parking the stroller next to the stage. He glanced inside to check that Bella was still asleep.

“Your kids are adorable.” The volunteer said before pulling out a folder with his and the girls’ badges and the schedule.

He laughed. “My kids are all full-grown: 27, 25, and almost 23. The sleeping one is my granddaughter. The one running around is my future step-daughter. And my cousin; don’t ask. But I’ll tell their moms that you said so.” He said with a warm smile before pinning his all access badge on and then pinning on Bella’s to her sleeping form.

“Nat, come here.” He called out, waving the badge. “You need a badge to go with the bracelet they gave us when we came in.”

As he pinned the badge to her, the volunteer started talking. “We followed the plans you sent over for the display of your new pieces, but we don’t think we assembled the installation piece correctly, and wanted you to look at it before it’s displayed. After the seminar and the class they will be moved out into the instructors’ gallery. We also got a couple of your older pieces on loan from the collectors - Aphrodite, Ares, and Narcissus. And of course we received Apollo & Artemis when your newer pieces came. These will also be moved to the gallery after the seminar and will remain on display throughout the show.” Suddenly another person popped into the room, and the volunteer shot Gabe an apologetic look. “I’ll be right back. Can you check on the placement of your pieces?”

Once Gabe was alone with the kids, he took Natalie by the hand. “Come on. I’ll show you things I made.” He said leading her over to an area of the ballroom he hadn’t noticed before. The four paintings the assistant had talked about were in a row, perched on easels with a grumpy looking man standing near by, obviously the supposed security guard of some kind.

They stopped in front of Narcissus, which was the painting from the banner. It was a naked woman seen only from behind stepping into a pool of water. It was liquefied glass poured and painted onto wood. “Was that a real person?” Natalie asked as she stared up at the painting.

“It’s DJ and CJ’s mom.” Gabe affirmed before moving her to stand in front of Ares.

This one was only a couple of years old, and wasn’t on display in someone’s collection so much as it was purchased because someone didn’t want a picture of their ass hanging in a stranger’s living room. It was dyed ash painted onto an acid washed canvas. A man was stepping into flames, and like Narcissus, it was a nude body from behind. He didn’t necessarily want this one here, but it was part of the set. The only painting missing was Zeus & Hera, but that had been an issue with the collector not wanting it on display.

“That’s a boy butt.” Natalie said before bursting into giggles. “Is that Uncle Johnny?” She asked in a whisper.

Gabe groaned. Between Natalie and Bella, he swore to God. “Mr. Johnny. That man is not your uncle any more. He’s Mr. Johnny now.” He corrected, sounding a little annoyed that all the little kids in his life were traitors. “And yes, but he doesn’t like people knowing that.”

He then moved Natalie to stand in front of Aphrodite. This one was slightly different. It’d been painted out of different shades of lipstick on top of a faded out mirror. It was still was from behind, but the woman had been painted so her face wasn’t seen, but the swell of one of her breasts was. She was stepping onto the petal of a flower.

“Is that my mom?” Natalie asked in awe. “How mad at you is she that someone has her butt and booby in their house?” She asked with a slight giggle.

Gabe rolled his eyes. “This one is actually at the Museum of the Goddess. It’s a small, liberal, hippy museum. It’s mostly Wiccans and lesbians checking her out.” He said with a shrug.

When Gabe didn’t walk her to stand in front of the last one, she walked herself over to stand in front of Apollo & Artemis. This one was two people merged together like the original Greek interpretation of soulmates. The male half had been painted out of a rainbow of different crayons melted down. The female half was painted out of different shades of blue crayons. They were stepping into the woods, and their faces were turned so you could see the outlines of their faces as the looked at each other.

“Is that you and Aunt G?” Natalie asked him, sounding awed. It looked like she wanted to touch it, and because it was the only one of the four that he hadn’t had it in him to sell, he nodded in approval. Natalie’s fingertips gently traced over his and Georgie’s forms. “How come you look more like aliens than people? And you don’t have any tattoos. The one of Uncle Johnny’s butt has a tattoo.”

Gabe pinched the bridge of his nose. Jill was going to murder him if Natalie kept calling Johnny ‘Uncle Johnny.’ Sighing, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and let her over to the installation piece to see what was going with it. “Little girl, you gotta stop calling that man your uncle.”

Later

There was the buzz of art students outside of the ballroom and all the pieces had been checked and double-checked. The make-shift studio was set-up to his specifications, and Natalie was dressed in a little smock so she wouldn’t come home covered in melted candle wax when she ‘helped’ with his class after the seminar. It wasn’t until Gabe and the girls were ushered into a makeshift greenroom made out of room dividers next to the stage that Bella woke up from her nap and wouldn’t stop crying.

“Bella, I gotta put you down, okay? We brought your playpen. You can watch Grandpa from the stage, but I’m gonna need to put you down.” He tried to reason with the toddler.

“Nooooooo” She whined, burying her face into the crook of his neck. “Grandpa can’t go. I need you. I have to potty.”

Gabe sighed, and it was then that the volunteer appeared. “I can take her if you’d like, Mr. James. We have a tight schedule to keep.” She told him, looking frazzled.

He ran his free hand over his mouth before shaking his head. “I’ll take her. She won’t go with you. Stall or something. I’ll be right back.” He looked at Natalie. “Come on, Nat. I can’t leave you alone.”

The little girl shook her head. “I wanna stay with your paintings. Miss-” She looked at the volunteer’s name badge. “Bonnie will keep an eye on me. It’s just five minutes.”

Sighing, he knew he’d lost this one. “Fine. Stay with Bonnie the whole time, okay?”

“I won’t go anywhere other than the stage.”

Something about that comment should have concerned him, but it didn’t.

Ten Minutes Later

As Gabe walked back into the the ballroom, it sounded like someone else had started the master class. What? Raising an eyebrow, he placed Bella into her playpen with her headphones and her iPad before giving Bonnie a very confused look. “Where’s Natalie?” He asked very slowly, already having a feeling he knew exactly where she was.

“She decided to start the workshop for you. She’s the cutest!”

Raising an eyebrow, he stepped out of the greenroom and onto the stage where he could see Natalie. She was sitting on what he assumed was his stool, a microphone in her hand while the audience ate out of the palm of her hand. “Gabe says it doesn’t matter if other people think your art is pretty. If you think your art is pretty that’s enough. Or if it’s supposed to be ugly, then rock that shit.”

Gabe ran a hand over his mouth as the audience laughed. Natalie was quoting her verbatim. Oh, Jill was going to murder him for sure.

“It’s not important what other people think of your art - as long as you think it’s fucking awesome.”

There was another loud laugh, and that was when Gabe decided it was his time to take the stage. Lord only knew what was going to come out of Natalie’s mouth next. He took the microphone from one of the volunteers and quietly walked onto the stage, a finger to his lips so the audience wouldn’t give away that he was walking across the stage.

“And you gotta be true to yourself and not care about the haters ‘cause they suck anyway.”

Gabe almost laughed, but he waited until he was standing right behind Natalie before he brought the microphone up to his mouth. “But the most important thing is to chase your truth no matter how weird it might be.”

Natalie all about jumped out of her skin. She spun around and looked at Gabe with a sheepish smile. “Hi, Gabe!” She greeted and there was a cheer.

“Can we make some noise for my almost step-daughter?” He asked the crowd of artists appeased him with a series of cheers and clapping. The little girl all but scrambled off the stool, but Gabe stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. “Where do you think you’re going? Can we get another stool up here?”

As a stool was brought out two things happened at once. The door opened and a latecomer walked into the ballroom. And Bella somehow managed to get out of her playpen and was wandering down one of the aisles. Jesus Christ, this day was one thing right after another. Before he could even react, Bella suddenly screamed out: “MR. JAY! GRANDPA JAAAAAAAAAAY!” And of course she then launched herself at the person who had just come into the ballroom. He barely had time to catch the confused and startled look on Johnny’s face before Bella was suddenly in his arms.

“Don’t worry. That wild child also belongs to me.” He allowed himself to shoot a lopsided grin in Johnny’s direction before tacking on: “And that’s actually her other Grandpa. More or less.”

He took the stool from the volunteer, and settled down next to Natalie. In the distance he could see Bella tugging Johnny to where she wanted to sit, but he tried to focus on what was left of his master class time and not on everything going on around him. “Now, I want to be vain and assume everyone here is familiar with my work and my style, but just in case you have no idea who I am and just wanted to learn something new today, I’m going to have Nattie here tell you about each of the paintings that I brought with me today.”

The projector behind them suddenly turned on, and Gabe nodded at Natalie to turn on the stool so she could see what was behind them. When the first painting came into focus, she giggled. “This one is called Narcissy-” “Narcissus” “And is of Aunt Satan, but that’s not really her name. That’s just what Gabe and CJ and DJ call her. Gabe poured glass onto wood and he had to be super careful ‘cause it was hot and ‘cause glass cools like really really fast and he wasn’t as good at art then and he has a scar on his hand now ‘cause it got too hot.”

There was laughter, and Gabe nodded for the next slide to appear. “What’s this one about?” He asked, and honestly this was easier than all the focus being on him.

“This one is called Aphrodite ‘cause that’s the goddess of love and being pretty, and Gabe thinks my mommy is the prettiest girl in the whole wide world. And that’s my mommy by the way. And I don’t know why he used lipstick other than ‘cause he was thinking about kissing her a lot. And her booby is out because he likes her boobies.”

There was more laughter, and Gabe couldn’t help but hide his face in his hands. He wasn’t sure if he was never bringing her to another one of these again or if he was going to bring her to all of them. The artists all seemed to love her. “I’m afraid to have her describe the next one.” He said as he nodded for the next painting to be shown.

Natalie giggled at the next painting. “That’s a boy butt. It’s Uncle Johnny’s butt. Hi, Uncle Johnny!!!” She waved into the audience, and Gabe did not hide his laugh at the look on Johnny’s face or how Bella waved back for him. “But it’s made out of ash that Gabe died different colors and I think Gabe chose ash ‘cause he and Uncle Johnny fought a lot a lot when they were married. And Uncle Gabe said Ares is the God of War and that’s why he named it that. I just think he wanted an excuse to draw Uncle Johnny’s butt. He really liked Uncle Johnny’s butt. I heard him tell Daddy once that Uncle Johnny has the most fuck-”

Gabe all but slapped his hand over Natalie’s mouth. “Now that’s enough of that.” The laughter was so loud that Gabe didn’t think he was going to be able to get control of the audience again. “Put up the next one.” He said, sounding flustered.

His hand was pushed away and Natalie stared up at the next painting dreamily. “This one is my favorite. It’s named after twins with weird names.” She said. “Aunt G was Gabe’s favorite person in the whole wide world, and she died before I got to meet her. He loved her more than anyone else in the world. They were best friends, and he used crayons ‘cause they used to color together and she always told him that he should be himself. This one is his favorite, too.”

Suddenly feeling a lump in his throat, he reached out and placed a kiss on the top of Natalie’s head. “Thanks, little girl. Can we get another round of applause for Nattie and her mostly accurate descriptions of my paintings?” There was clapping and cheering. “Go ahead and have a seat with Bella and Uncle Johnny.” He realized what he said and winced, but it was too late. Rolling his eyes, he pushed Natalie off to sit down with Bella. “And, Nattie, leave the mic.”

There was laughter again, and Gabe addressed the audience again. “Alright, now let’s talk about how to paint with things other than paint.”

#Drabble #pairing: Gabe/Jill #pairing: Gabe/Johnny

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jaygraphicarts3 · 5 years

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'Lost and Found’ Part 3—Type Beast

For the last ‘Lost and Found’ workshop, we used block relief printing to combine parts 1 and 2 together. I have looked at how to make a custom typeface out of strange materials and how to use screen printing to combine unrelated images, so for this workshop, I looked at combining type and print together.

We were given a set of examples of 2 juxtaposing words to respond to in our outcomes. These were:

Trial & Error

Strength & Weakness

Names & Faces

Bits & Pieces

Quiet & Loud

Beauty & Beast

Forwards & Backwards

Order & Chaos

Lost & Found

Winners & Losers

Strong & Weak

Positive & Negative

Time & Place

The aim of this workshop was to produce a series of prints, using the words we selected, perhaps capturing the essence of the words or even using letters from them to create something with a completely new meaning. Using the artist David Carson as the influence, we were encouraged to be rough with our prints and to put any typographic rules we have learnt to the side.

David Carson

David Carson, who many claim to be the ‘godfather’ of grunge typography, was born on September 8, 1954 in Corpus Christi, Texas. He accumulated his bachelor of arts degree from San Diego State University, although initially planning to study sociology. It was only in his later life when Carson started to pursue graphic design as a career. In fact, surfing was a large part of his life, with him being ranked the 9th best surfer in the world 1989. David Carson’s background is clearly very different from the conventional artist. This clearly shows through his rough, disorganised style of work which goes against many of the principals of design and typography.

Here are three examples of some of his work. I chose the first and third examples as they relate to the process we explored in this workshop: block relief printing. The centre uses some different techniques to do with photographic collaging which slightly resembles Robert Rauschenberg’s work with the various layers roughly overlapped. So I thought it would be good to compare how the two artists use similar techniques in different scenarios.

In terms of the block relief examples, the left is a quotation reading “The end of print David Carson”. “The End Of Print” is a collection of his works which he published as a book. What interests me about this left print is how different typefaces, sizes and orientations have been united by their similar colour. What is especially interesting about Carson’s work, is although at first the perception of it may seem to be almost ‘messy’, there is always an underlying consistency to the letters. Whether this be through colour like the example to the left, or to the right where there is a more obvious control of their orientation. The right image is still limited to just 3 print colours. However, this one features a lot of overlap and weaker prints to give an eroded effect. With all this going on, every single print is still carefully placed with its orientation considered. It’s either horizontal or vertical, which is what gives the chaotic nature of the layering and random letters such a strong contrast. Altogether, there is a balance to ensure Carson’s message is still perceived, yet it may not be the obvious message being portrayed by the type itself.

“Don’t mistake legibility for communication”

When David Carson says “Don’t mistake legibility for communication”, I relate it back to these three examples I have chosen. The original message of the letterpresses is overshadowed by their arrangement and manipulation, causing them to have a new meaning. Just because the letters may not be legible, this doesn’t mean that they are not communicating anything. On the contrary, they give a completely new meaning to the piece once they are collaged together.

The middle example showcases Carson taking advantage of imagery to compliment the typography. Because the type has meaning and supports the message, he hasn’t manipulated it to the point where it is unrecognisable. Rather, the viewer can still read the type but is slightly held back from doing so by how inconsistent it is. Along with the imagery of destroyed buildings in the background and a bomb in the bottom left, the piece has a powerful sense of destruction.

‘The End of Print’ showcases a lot more examples of instances where David Carson has used typography along with imagery. He worked as an art director, designing various magazines which often focused around skateboarding and surfing. Magazines use type and image as the core components of each page; this is why I have chosen some examples of his work on magazines to show how he implements the two. Below are examples of spreads he produced for “Surfer”, to redesign their outdated design.

Carson’s work on “Beach Culture” was arguably the first chance he got to make an impact on typography and design as a whole. ‘Beach Culture’ was owned by the parent company ‘Surfer Publications’, who also owned the magazine ‘Surfer’. Throughout 1991 and 1992, Carson was hired to give ‘Surfer’ a new look essentially. Their designs were still working to 1970s conventions, so this gave David Carson the chance to redesign their magazines using a completely new approach. Being a previous professional surfer himself, it is interesting to see how he visually interprets his passion into magazine spreads. As well as this, some of the pages used Photoshop to manipulate the type, which makes these examples some of the earliest uses of Photoshop.

The main thing that stood out to me instantaneously was the extreme contrast between the display and read type. Carson’s style is wild, but if this rough edginess was translated into the read type of a magazine, it’s functionality would suffer. Because of this, he controls when and where he uses the spontaneous scale and position and restricts it to the display type, causing a large contrast. For a specific example of this, the page which reads “the photos that changed the way we surf”, the “we surf” type is so much more impactful due to its extreme size in comparison to the other type. Read type is typically at a 10-12 point size, but “the photos that changed the way” is a lot larger than this. However, in comparison to the rest of the type on the canvas, it serves as read type as it serves for no interpretation.

Process

As a class, we first prepared some typeface trays to choose our letters from. These consist of 26 characters in assorted styles and sizes, so multiple people choosing which trays they like meant as a class there was a range of type to work with. David Carson very rarely stuck with one typeface. He would use various different ones to compliment the chaotic composition. Once we selected a few typefaces, the next step was to start preparing the blocks by inking them. I started off using a palette knife to spread some of the oil-based ink onto the workspace, before using an ink roller to spread the ink further onto the desk. I did this until the ink reached the right consistency, which was indicated by the sound resembling a smooth hissing noise. Next, I used the same ink roller to roll some of the ink onto the letter blocks. I didn’t ink all of my letters at once, however, because I was going to use different colours later on so I had to keep some of the letters dry at this stage. Saying this, there was always the opportunity to clean the blocks and re-ink them with another colour.

Cleaning the blocks was done with ‘white spirit’ and a cloth. We used white spirit because the ink, being oil based, doesn’t wash away with water. The white spirit is needed to dilute the ink enough so that it becomes easier to wipe off the blocks. Once wiped, the little amount of white spirit that may be left on the blocks quickly dries, meaning the blocks are ready to be re-inked.

Now the blocks were inked, the next stage was to go to a printing press and start making the actual reliefs. The blocks were the first thing that went onto the presses, followed by the paper we were printing on. But because it is a relief print, I had to take into account how they will be flipped when I turn the paper over. What I liked especially about this disorganised way of looking at type, was that even if I did make a mistake, for instance with the orientation of one of my letters, it doesn’t take away from the meaning of the overall piece. This pushed me to be more loose with my work, and not to care so much about making small mistakes.

Once the letters and the paper were laid onto the bed, I then pushed it into the press and pulled the lever to force the press downwards. If the lever could be pulled effortlessly, then I needed to add more packing (newspaper). If it was impossible to pull all the way across, then I needed to take some of the packing out. At the right point, the blocks make a sharp imprint into the paper, but not too much pressure is added to damage the paper or even the blocks themselves.

Although this process takes longer than screen printing, I prefer it because of how free I am to alter the prints. Whereas with screen printing I am limited to what is exposed onto the screen, with block relief printing I can very easily change how I lay out each block and changing colours is a lot easier. Therefore, I think the extra time it takes is worth it due to how much happier I am of the outcome.

Review

In conclusion, I think I captured the essence of David Carson well through the limitation of colour and orientation. I also think I responded well to the words and using a mixture of legibility and distortion to portray their meanings. “Chaos” is printed in various colours, typefaces and positions to convey the meaning of the work. There is no balance or organisation to the way “chaos” is printed which makes the word seem in a frenzy of some sort. To contrast this, to word “order” follows opposing rules. I thought about its composition, placing it in the middle and the word as a whole is readable. One thing I wanted to do better and is something I will work on if I revisit block relief printing, is the quality of the print. I wanted to produce a print with a clinical line which complimented the word “order” but struggled with achieving this accuracy. Saying this, I was aware that making mistakes doesn’t always take away from the outcome; I think this is the case for me this time as I think the subtle texture around “order” could represent a slight corruption (which also links with the rough ink marks occurring all around the page).

In terms of the volume of work produced from this workshop, I didn't achieve my aim to produce roughly 5 prints. However, I focused on being happy with one outcome as opposed to rushing 5. Because block prints take more time, especially in large groups, I feel like it was unrealistic to produce 5 prints, all of which I am satisfied with.

Looking Back

Looking back at David Carson’s quotation “don’t mistake legibility for communication”, my outcome is a good example of this in practice. The legibility of the word “chaos” is skewed so much to the point of it being unreadable in the conventional sense. Each letter being roughly placed onto the page and in some cases overlapped with other letters still communicate the feeling of chaos, so the legibility of the word changes whilst the communication doesn't. On the other hand, the legibility of “order” is controlled so that the word still reads like usual which is an example of the message being understood at face value.

Being the last workshop of the ‘Lost and Found’ workshop, the main thing I have learnt is the mindset of different artists and how this applies to my own work. Thinking about possible routes I could take my project, the printing processes have rarely been regarded as a strength of mine. Along with this, I don’t feel like I am more likely to use them for my final outcomes; this doesn’t mean the workshops were a waste of time at all. On the contrary, instead of the primary focus being on the processes themselves, I focused on the artists we used as inspiration and their outlook on their work. With this information, I have learnt a lot about how I should approach my own work by being constantly motivated to challenge myself with new ideas.

Moving Forward

With what I have taken away from the ‘Lost and found’ workshop series (especially this last workshop), my main aim is to be challenging myself and my ideas with new unfamiliar practices. I found the rough way of working to be especially helpful for gathering ideas, but I think my next step isn’t to gain more ideas, but to start refining them into what I think will be the most effective in fulfilling the brief. My aim isn’t to choose a final idea yet as I feel like this will limit the practical work I produce, but I do feel like with these workshops I am starting to get to the point of too many ideas which could lead to me losing track of my initial passions.

Because I have primarily worked with type recently, the first step of me challenging my ideas is to visit other areas of design. I plan to visit what I see myself using for my outcomes (branding and animation). After this is when I can start combining what I have learnt together.

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filtration-products · 5 years

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Bob Ross Oil Painting Technique – Frequently Asked Questions

The following is a list of frequently asked questions about the BOB ROSS Oil Painting Technique and some instruction about the use and care of the materials.

BLENDING:

This technique refers to the softening of hard edges and most visible brush strokes by blending the wet oil paint on the canvas with a clean, dry brush. In blending, an already painted area is brushed very lightly with criss-cross strokes or by gently tapping with the corner of the brush. This gives colors a soft and natural appearance. Not all oil paints are suitable for this technique – most are too soft and tend to smear. Only a thick, firm paint is suitable for this technique.

MARBLING:

To mix paints to a marbled effect, place the different colored paints on the mixing area of your palette and use your palette knife to pick up and fold the paints together, then pull flat. Streaks of each color should be visible in the mixture. Do not over mix.

THINNING PAINTS FOR ADDING HIGHLIGHTS:

When mixing paints for application over thicker paints already on the canvas, especially when adding highlight colors, thin the paint with LIQUID WHITE, LIQUID CLEAR or ODORLESS THINNER. The rule to remember here is that a thin paint will stick to a thicker paint.

CLEANING AND DRYING THE BRUSHES:

Painting with the wet on wet technique requires frequent and thorough cleaning of your brushes with paint thinner. An empty one pound coffee can is ideal to hold the thinner, or use any container approximately 5″ in diameter and at-least 6″ deep. Place a Bob Ross Screen in the bottom of the can and fill with odorless thinner approximately 1″ above the screen. Scrub the brushes bristles against the screen to remove paint sediments which will settle on the bottom of the can.

Dry your larger brushes by carefully squeezing them against the inside of the coffee can, then slapping the bristles against a brush beater rack mounted inside of a tall kitchen trash basket to remove the remainder of the thinner. Smaller brushes can be cleaned by wiping them with paper towel or a rag (I highly recommend using Viva paper towels because they are very absorbent). Do not return the brushes to their plastic bags after use, this will cause the bristles to become limp. Never clean your Bob Ross brushes with soap and water or detergent as this will destroy the natural strength of the bristles. Store your brushes with bristles up or lying flat.

APPLYING LIQUID WHITE:

Use the 2″ brush with long, firm vertical and horizontal strokes across the canvas. The coat of Liquid WHITE should be very, very thin and even. Apply just before you begin to paint. Do not allow the paint to dry before you begin.

PLACEMENT OF OIL COLORS ON THE PALETTE:

I suggest using a palette at least 16″x20″ in size. Try arranging the colors around the outer edge of your palette from light to dark. Leave the center of the palette for mixing your paints.

LOADING YOUR BRUSH:

To fully load the inside bristles of your brush first hold it perpendicular to the palette and work the bristles into the pile of paint. Then holding the brush at a 45 degree angle, drag the brush across your palette and away from the pile of paint. Flipping your brush from side to side will insure both sides will be loaded evenly.

(NOTE: When the bristles come to a chiseled or sharp flat edge, the brush is loaded correctly.)

For some strokes you may want the end of your brush to be rounded. To do this, stand the brush vertically on the palette. Firmly pull toward you working the brush in one direction. Lift off the palette with each stroke. This will tend to round off the end of the brush, paint with the rounded end up.

MIXING FOR HIGHLIGHTS:

Place the tip of your brush into the can of LIQUID WHITE, LIQUID CLEAR or ODORLESS THINNER allow only a small amount of medium to remain on the bristles. Load your brush by gently dragging it through the highlight colors, repeat as needed. Gently tap the bristles against the palette just enough to open up the bristles and loosen the paint.

LOADING THE PALETTE KNIFE:

With your palette knife, pull the mixture of paint in a thin layer down across the palette. Holding your knife in a straight upward position, pull the long working edge of your knife diagonally across the paint. This will create a roll of paint on your knife.

WHAT IF I HAVE NEVER PAINTED BEFORE?

There are no great mysteries to painting. You need only the desire, a few basic techniques and a little practice. lf you are new to this technique, I strongly suggest that you read the entire section on “TIPS AND TECHNIQUES” prior to starting your first painting. Consider each painting you create as a learning experience. Add your own special touch and ideas to each painting you do and your confidence as well as your ability will increase at an unbelievable rate.

WHAT PAINT SHOULD I USE?

The BOB ROSS technique of painting is dependent upon a special firm oil paint for the base colors. Colors that are used primarily for highlights (Yellows) are manufactured to a thinner consistency for easier mixing and application. The use of proper equipment helps assure the best possible results.

Liquid Clear is a particularly exciting ingredient for wet-on-wet painting. Like Liquid White/Black, it creates the necessary smooth and slippery surface. Additionally, Liquid Clear has the advantage of not diluting the intensity of other colors especially the darks which are so important in painting seascapes. Remember to apply Liquid Clear very sparingly! The tendency is to apply larger amounts than necessary because it is so difficult to see.

13 colors we use are listed below:

*Alizarin Crimson *Sap Green, Bright Red *Dark Sienna *Pthalo Green Cadmium Yellow Titanium White, *Pthalo Blue, *Indian Yellow *Van Dyke Brown *Midnight Black Yellow Ochre *Prussian Blue (*indicates colors that are transparent or semi-transparent and which may be used as under paints where transparency is required.)

HOW DO I MIX COLORS?

The mixing of colors can be one of the most rewarding and fun parts of painting, but may also be one of the most feared procedures. Devote some time to mixing various color combinations and become familiar with the basic color mixtures. Study the colors in nature and practice duplicating the colors you see around you each day. Within a very short time you will be so comfortable mixing colors that you will look forward to each painting as a new challenge.

SHOULD YOU USE JUST ANY ART PRODUCT FOR THIS METHOD OF PAINTING?

Possibly the #1 problem experienced by individuals when first attempting this technique and the major cause for disappointment revolves around the use of products designed for other styles of painting or materials not designed for artwork at all (i.e. house painting brushes, thin soupy paints, etc.).

All of the paintings for this technique were created using Bob Ross paints, brushes and palette knives. To achieve the best results from your efforts, I strongly recommend that you use only products designed specifically for use with the Bob Ross wet-on-wet technique.

HOW LONG WILL IT TAKE MY PAINTING TO DRY?

Drying time will vary depending on numerous factors such as heat, humidity, thickness of paint, painting surface, brand of paint used, mediums used with the paint, etc. Another factor is the individual colors used. Different colors have different drying times (i.e., normally Blue will dry very fast while colors like Red, White and Yellow are very slow drying). A good average time for an oil painting to dry, when painted in this technique, is approximately one week.

SHOULD I VARNISH MY PAINTINGS?

Varnishing a painting will protect it from the elements. It will also help to keep the colors more vibrant. lf you decide to varnish your painting, I suggested that you wait at least six months. It takes this long for an oil painting to be completely cured. Use a good quality, non-yellowing picture varnish spray. I personally spray my paintings after about 4 weeks and have not had any problems.

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