thegameisonat221b
So many shows, so little time
All of my obsessions are gathered here
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#tomorrow is a holiday let's gooooo well done workers of the world YEEPEEEEE#sorry americans i know your workers' solidarity day is in september
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we've found it folks: mcmansion heaven
Hello everyone. It is my pleasure bringing you the greatest house I have ever seen. The house of a true visionary. A real ad-hocist. A genuine pioneer of fenestration. This house is in Alabama. It was built in 1980 and costs around $5 million. It is worth every penny. Perhaps more.
Now, I know what you're thinking: "Come on, Kate, that's a little kooky, but certainly it's not McMansion Heaven. This is very much a house in the earthly realm. Purgatory. McMansion Purgatory." Well, let me now play Beatrice to your Dante, young Pilgrim. Welcome. Welcome, welcome, welcome.
It is rare to find a house that has everything. A house that wills itself into Postmodernism while unable to let go of the cookiest moments of the prior zeitgeist, the Bruce Goffs and Earthships, the commune houses built from car windshields, the seventies moments of psychedelic hippie fracture. It is everything. It has everything. It is theme park, it is High Tech. It is Renaissance (in the San Antonio Riverwalk sense of the word.) It is medieval. It is maybe the greatest pastiche to sucker itself to the side of a mountain, perilously overlooking a large body of water. Look at it. Just look.
The inside is white. This makes it dreamlike, almost benevolent. It is bright because this is McMansion Heaven and Gray is for McMansion Hell. There is an overbearing sheen of 80s optimism. In this house, the credit default swap has not yet been invented, but could be.
It takes a lot for me to drop the cocaine word because I think it's a cheap joke. But there's something about this example that makes it plausible, not in a derogatory way, but in a liberatory one, a sensuous one. Someone created this house to have a particular experience, a particular feeling. It possesses an element of true fantasy, the thematic. Its rooms are not meant to be one cohesive composition, but rather a series of scenes, of vastly different spatial moments, compressed, expanded, bright, close.
And then there's this kitchen for some reason. Yet all fits with what the interior design tries to hide, namely how unerringly peculiar the house is, yet it is not entirely able to do so because the choices made here remain decadent, indulgent, albeit in a more familiar way.
Rare is it to discover an interior wherein one truly must wear sunglasses. The environment created in service to transparency has to somewhat prevent the elements from penetrating too deep while retaining their desirable qualities. I don't think an architect designed this house. An architect would have had access to specifically engineered products for this purpose. Whoever built this house had certain access to architectural catalogues but not those used in the highest end or most structurally complex projects. The customization here lies in the assemblage of materials and in doing so stretches them to the height of their imaginative capacity. To borrow from Charles Jencks, ad-hoc is a perfect description. It is an architecture of availability and of adventure.
A small interlude. We are outside. There is no rear exterior view of this house because it would be impossible to get one from the scrawny lawn that lies at its depths. This space is intended to serve the same purpose, which is to look upon the house itself as much as gaze from the house to the world beyond.
Living in a city, I often think about exhibitionism. Living in a city is inherently exhibitionist. A house is a permeable visible surface; it is entirely possible that someone will catch a glimpse of me they're not supposed to when I rush to the living room in only a t-shirt to turn out the light before bed. But this is a space that is only exhibitionist in the sense that it is an architecture of exposure, and yet this exposure would not be possible without the protection of the site, of the distance from every other pair of eyes. In this respect, a double freedom is secured. The window intimates the potential of seeing. But no one sees.
At the heart of this house lies a strange mix of concepts. Postmodern classicist columns of the Disney World set. The unpolished edge of the vernacular. There is also an organicist bent to the whole thing, something more Goff than Gaudí, and here we see some of the house's most organic forms, the monolith- or shell-like vanity mixed with the luminous artifice of mirrors and white. A backlit cave, primitive and performative at the same time, which is, in essence, the dialectic of the luxury bathroom.
And yet our McMansion Heaven is still a McMansion. It is still an accumulation of deliberate signifiers of wealth, very much a construction with the secondary purpose of invoking envy, a palatial residence designed without much cohesion. The presence of golf, of wood, of masculine and patriarchal symbolism with an undercurrent of luxury drives that point home. The McMansion can aspire to an art form, but there are still many levels to ascend before one gets to where God's sitting.
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a raven father (i call him "pants") I've been feeding sometimes likes to sit outside my window and either wait for more food or just listen to the stuff I'm watching while I draw. Today's a colder day so he likes to fluff up a bit, and I kid you not :
this is an accurate representation of my view
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Had to throw this together after being struck with inspiration.
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The queen wore a high-collared black silk gown, with a hundred dark red rubies sewn into her bodice, covering her from neck to bosom.
They were cut in the shape of teardrops, as if the queen were weeping blood. Cersei smiled to see her, and Sansa thought it was the sweetest and saddest smile she had ever seen.
This was supposed to be another quick one that took me a literal month of work, on and off, and over 20 hours of audiobook listened while doing it.
There's something to be said about how nowadays I'm more comfortable with working on pieces for longer and just chipping away at work rather than staying up until 4 am to finish something on a rush but like.
Anyway, Sansa's POV! Cersei's revenge dress! Murdered husband! Misogyny will come for us all in the end!
Commissions open!
bonus: pycelle's dumb face
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I know that its not actually that hard to learn to draw. or paint. or cook. or learn to speak a new language. or code. or any of a myriad of other possible skills or hobbies. but at some point you need to pick some single digit number of those ten thousand things that anyone can do, and to everything else say "i have other priorities" because otherwise you will never do any of them.
and so i think when people say "i wish i could..." they usually don't believe that they couldn't do it if they really tried, or even that they've overestimated the difficulty of doing so. I think what they're really wishing for is that time and energy were not finite quantities and that everything that was worth doing could also be done. because it's cosmically unfair that that isn't so.
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ok if anyone can point me to a good blogger on anna karenina that would be poggers bc when i look at the tag I see only aesthetic edits /gifs or xreader fanfic which is fine but not what i'm looking for
I want someone whose brain was consumed by the tragedy of Anna's life (and Joe wright's direction)
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“Lord Byron gets up at two. I get up, quite contrary to my usual custom … at 12. After breakfast we sit talking till six. From six to eight we gallop through the pine forest which divide Ravenna from the sea; we then come home and dine, and sit up gossiping till six in the morning. I don’t suppose this will kill me in a week or fortnight, but I shall not try it longer. Lord B.’s establishment consists, besides servants, of ten horses, eight enormous dogs, three monkeys, five cats, an eagle, a crow, and a falcon; and all these, except the horses, walk about the house, which every now and then resounds with their unarbitrated quarrels, as if they were the masters of it… . [P.S.] I find that my enumeration of the animals in this Circean Palace was defective … . I have just met on the grand staircase five peacocks, two guinea hens, and an Egyptian crane. I wonder who all these animals were before they were changed into these shapes.”
— Percy Bysshe Shelley on the lifestyle of Lord Byron (via timemarauder)
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i found the tenth circle of hell: it's where your fave blows up on tiktok
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i'm sorry but this is the only submission to this trend that i'll consider giving any thought to
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I'm curious, for shows, when is the score recorded? Sometimes it seems like the music is matched exactly with the beats of a conversation or line. I'm wondering if that's because it's lined up in editing or if the music is done close to last and it's conducted to match the show, or a combination. Thanks!
The music is normally written after the picture is "locked". So the composer can and often does score the music around the conversations.
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I dont know what to say. I’m at a ,’ , |,’_’ for words
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Sleeping Beauty (1959) - Color key paintings by Eyvind Earle
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