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late-to-the-magnus-archives · 19 days

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Blood and sand - Chapter One

When John Luke was nine, Parker stopped writing back.

It took a while before John Luke was sure, before he allowed the worry to slither into his bones, and take flavor and color away, and leave only trembling cold behind. Parker had never been quiet this long. Something had happened.

John Luke Yang wants his brother back. When he learns about a wish—offered by a god, in exchange for winning some kind of game—he's willing to leave everything behind in pursuit of it.

But the Dreamlands are not safe, and the King in Yellow has gone mad. The Games are not designed to be survived.

Luke has fallen into deep and dangerous waters. Fortunately, he won't be swimming alone.

Written for the @malevolentmadnessmixup. Art by @aktrashpanda.

>>>>READ ON AO3 OR BELOW<<<<

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Chapter One: Before

When John Luke was nine, Parker stopped writing back.

Phone calls were expensive, and even with what Parker sent every month, John Luke didn’t have much change. It all went to their older sister, Phoebe, who meant well—she really did—but she hadn’t planned on caring for her baby brother in the expense of San Francisco, not when she had her own kids to feed.

She’d never approved of Parker going back east, anyway. San Francisco was easier. Safer. There were more people here like them.

John Luke didn’t particularly feel like anyone was like him. He had no friends. He had his big brother, and that had always been good enough.

But Parker stopped writing back. So for a solid week, John Luke ran errands, washed windows, subbed for the paperboy (Toby would do anything to get out of work), and scrounged at last enough money to call Yang and Lester P.I., in Arkham, Massachusetts.

The phone rang and rang, and nobody ever picked up.

Phoebe finally listened to him because the money stopped coming, and she called the police in Arkham. That’s how they learned Parker was dead.

The body had been incinerated. They hadn’t bothered to contact next of kin (“Because he was a—” Phoebe’s husband said, and then used a slur that made Phoebe smack him). They’d sold all his goods at police auction. It was over. Parker was gone as though he’d never existed, and there was nothing left.

John Luke cried a lot. He probably wasn’t supposed to. Someone should, though. Shouldn't they?

Was there someone else? Adults always had other people, didn’t they? He’d peeked into Phoebe’s address book, but all she’d had was Parker’s name, office address, and office phone number… all of which had been lightly crossed out with a single, precise pencil line.

That made him cry again. He couldn’t even verbalize why.

He left her address book open as if forcing her to see Parker’s name could possibly conjure grief from her, too, and tried to continue his life.

When John Luke was ten, he discovered magic.

He hadn’t meant to. He’d been in trouble at school again—the kind he always got into by trying to be good. They said he was sullen when he was quiet. They said he was rude when he just struggled to make eye-contact. They said he was antisocial, when trying to talk to his peers felt like being a bug trying to swim in molasses.

(He knew about molasses. Phoebe and Parker had been living with their parents in Boston in 1919, and he’d never forgotten the nightmarish description of a spider trapped in that horrible flow, unable to lift its limbs to save itself.)

So he was in trouble. They made him sit in the corner with a dunce cap on, even though he had the highest grades in class. It was dark by the time he headed home.

He'd probably be in trouble for that, not that he was ever noticed any other time. He could admit it to himself in the crowded, smelly dark of this night: no one would be upset if he didn’t come home. If he didn’t come home, Phoebe would maybe cross his name out with a light pencil line, and that would be that.

Feeling sick, he slowed. John Luke passed irregular streetlamps and neon lights proclaiming CHOP SUEY and SHANGHAI LOW. Passed the alleys where (he'd been told) the Tong had fought for supremacy only a few years before. And then, he stopped. He stopped at the alley leading to the five flights of stairs that would take him to Phoebe’s apartment. Stopped, because he did not want to go home.

Home was… home was… not here. Home was gone.

He missed Parker.

Strange, sometimes, how these moments hit, unexpected and unplanned, without any warning for how they changed one’s life course. John Luke could not know this was one such moment now. He only knew he could go where he belonged—to disapproval, to cold quiet, to disappointment he’d gotten in trouble, to early bed and (conveniently) no dinner—

Or.

He could walk in the traffic-clogged streets, and pretend he was like them, and stay out all night long, because who was going to stop him? Maybe a cop, but more likely, no one. And that, right now, felt better than going back. So, he walked.

He walked, head down, hands pocketed, unconcerned for thieves because he had nothing to steal. He walked, crying softly, wishing Parker were here, wishing the police had been wrong. He walked, and turned streets at random, and tried not to bump into anyone (impossible), and ignored pickpockets, and found a neon sign he’d never seen before.

CHANGE FORTUNE

That was silly. So silly. He knew all of that kind of thing was bullshit. He knew science was real. Math mattered. Magic was lies. There was no such thing as fortune or luck.

CHANGE FORTUNE

What good would it do to try, anyway? He had no money. (Toby got caught outsourcing, and now nobody could take turns for him anymore.) It didn’t even mean anything. It wouldn’t do anything.

He couldn’t bring Parker back. Not even the old-world stories Phoebe’s ancient mother-in-law told portrayed that as possible.

CHANGE FORTUNE

On the other hand, what harm could it do?

John Luke stepped inside the shop. It was a dark, creaky space, with creaky floors and creaky fans and creaky something that almost sounded like alien voices, some kind of insect choir, impossible beings squeaking some kind of song for whatever they thought songworthy.

The shop was narrow—one long room, lit only by the front windows, with shelves floor-to-ceiling on either side, crammed with unlabeled goods wrapped in dust and mystery. And at the far end, behind a glass counter, sat a little old man.

A little old man who beckoned him forward. A little old man with pale eyes, and lips that did not smile. A little old man who seemed to have fox-ears if John Luke didn’t look directly, and a fox-tail if John-Luke looked away. “You,” the old man said. “You look young, healthy. I need help. Can you help me?”

John Luke’s Mandarin was pretty good, and he understood. “Yes, sir?”

The old man tried to stand, winced (a grimace that showed his pointed teeth), and sat again. “It’s time to pay my rent, but I’m injured. Could you take my rent money to my landlord? He lives upstairs; it won’t be a terrible journey. This way, he won’t hound me, and I can recover from my fall in peace. Please help me.”

Well… what was John Luke going to say, no? It was obvious the old man (who was human, no matter what imagination claimed) needed help. John Luke understood needing help. He took the envelope.

He did not open it. Following instructions, he walked around the outside of the building, found the fire escape, climbed it, and knocked on the window of the second floor.

It was opened by someone he could not see. A darker shape in darkness, with round, frog-like eyes, glinting in the gloom.

John Luke swallowed and held the envelope out. “From the man downstairs.”

“Thank you, John Luke,” said the darker shape in darkness, and took the envelope with a hand (green, mottled, webbed) that fortunately did not make contact.

And John Luke trembled on his way down the stairs, and swallowed bile as he hesitated outside that shop door (CHANGE FORTUNE), and finally went inside because rationally, this could not be real, what he’d seen up there, and if it was, he had no name for it, but if it was real, then he needed to see where it went.

The old man smiled, and offered some steaming tea. “What do you want, more than all the world?”

John Luke did not live in a home or an era in which taking things from strangers was verboten, so he took the warm, fragile teacup and sipped. He didn’t know this brew; it was floral, a strange taste, almost dusty, but so good he suddenly had to fight the urge to gulp it down at once. “My brother.”

Why had he answered that?

“A challenging proposition,” said the old man. “I can’t give him back to you.”

John Luke’s heart ached. Ached. As if disappointed, but he couldn’t be, because that meant he’d hoped for the impossible. “I know. No one can, sir.”

The old man pointed his knobbly, wrinkled finger. “There is one who can. It will cost you; it will take much effort, trial, error, and triumph, but there is one who can. It will cost you. But there is one who can.”

The repeat mattered, made this like a vow, and John Luke stood there holding a teacup that was not his, trembling from head to toe, and suddenly knew this was the hinge his life would turn on. There would be a before and an after this choice—but if he could get his brother back, he did not care about the cost. “Please,” he said, and pretended tears weren’t leaking down his cheeks, hoping the darkness of the room would hide them.

The old man nodded. “Good luck, John Luke.” He held his hand out, palm up, and blew on it, right into John Luke’s face.

And John Luke woke up at home, on Phoebe’s spare children’s mattress. Beside his head, a pile of ancient, mold-spotted books in various languages waited to be read.

Of course, CHANGE FORTUNE was gone. It was an abandoned laundromat, flooded out, walls and floors ruined by water too thoroughly for anyone to bother renovating it. Mold climbed the walls. He doubted the apartments above were clear of it.

He walked around the side of the building, and found that the fire escape was rusted off, broken, completely missing from the third floor down.

Right. So.

It had happened. He knew it had. By kindness to an old man, he’d earned… something.

A chance, his gut said, which was not a guarantee.

It was ludicrous to believe. Insane. Crazytown.

John Luke believed, and in hope he would somehow resurrect his brother, he went home and opened the first book.

[chapter two] [masterpost]

#malevolent #malevolent au #malevolent fic #arthur lester #john doe #dennis collins #luke yang #kiy malevolent #malevolent madness mixup #blood and sand fic #kayne malevolent #oscar malevolent

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vympr · 2 years

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'ACT UP' PROTESTS AZT PRICES AT STOCK EXCHANGE, SEPTEMBER 14, 1989

IMAGE SOURCES 1 2

"Just before trading began on September 14, 1989, seven AIDS activists snuck into the New York Stock Exchange. They walked in through the Broad Street entrance, having falsified Bear Stearns badges, and filed in with the crush of brokers and traders. Underneath their two-piece suit business drag, they concealed everything needed for the morning’s action: marine airhorns, two cameras loaded with high ASA film, a handwritten banner, metal chains, handcuffs without keys and wads of fake paper cash.

Inside the exchange, two of the seven peeled off and stood on the floor, readying their cameras. The other five ducked underneath a rope and climbed a staircase that led to a balcony, which overlooked the exchange’s storied floor. Then they threaded their metal chains through the balcony’s spindles and locked themselves into place, in the hopes of delaying their inevitable arrests.

Then they lowered their banner, which read “Sell Wellcome,” an imperative to ditch the stocks of Burroughs Wellcome, the pharmaceutical company that manufactured AZT. At the time, AZT was the most expensive pharmaceutical ever brought to market, and it was one of Burroughs Wellcome’s biggest profit makers. Seconds before the opening bell commenced trading, they pulled out their airhorns.

That day, nobody inside the exchange heard the ringing of the opening bell. If those on the trading floor didn’t immediately understand the demonstration’s purpose, it soon became clear. Fake ten-, twenty- and hundred-dollar bills began raining over the floor. The back of each denomination respectively read,

'White Heterosexual Men Can’t Get AIDS… DON’T BANK ON IT. WHY ARE WE HERE?

Because your malignant neglect KILLS. FUCK YOUR PROFITEERING. People are dying while you play business.'

Though ACT UP identified the pharmaceutical company Burroughs Wellcome as a target, and organized the demonstration itself, Gran Fury supplied much of the action’s messaging, and ACT UP’s successes often relied upon the sloganeering of Gran Fury’s posters, stickers, T-shirts, pins and billboards. The stock exchange demonstration also shows the effectiveness of these combined efforts. Just days later, Burroughs Wellcome reduced AZT’s price by 20 percent."

It Was Vulgar and It Was Beautiful: How Aids Activists Used Art to Fight a Pandemic, Jack Lowery

On September 14, 1989, ACT UP led a noon rally of 350 people in front of the New York Stock Exchange, again targeting Burroughs Wellcome and other companies. The demonstration was planned to coincide with those held in San Francisco and London that day.

ACT UP Demonstrations on Wall Street

#aids #hiv #lgbtq #aids activism #act up #images #2022 books

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unknownworlds4 · 10 months

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As we near the end of pride month, I would like to celebrate a number of LGBTQ+ figures that may be unknown to some.

Alan Turing (1912 - 1954)

Alan Turing was British mathematician, cryptologist, and computer scientist who is credited as the founder of modern computer science and artificial intelligence. During World War II, he worked for Britain’s Government Code and Cypher School at Bletchley Park, leading the effort to decrypt German naval intelligence. Turing created a number of methods and devices that helped crack the German Enigma Code and allowed the allies to read German intelligence and allow allied ships to avoid U-Boat ‘Wolf-packs’. Turing’s work was pivotal in helping the allied victory in the war. Sadly, Turing was arrested in 1952 for homosexual acts and convicted of ‘gross indecency’. He accepted chemical castration as an alternative to prison. In 1954, was found dead from suicide by cyanide poisoning. It’s believed that Turing’s work helped shortened the war by several years.

Harvey Milk (1930 - 1978)

Harvey Milk was a politician and the first openly gay man to serve in public office in the United States. Milk moved to San Francisco in 1972 and took up residence in the Castro District, a neighborhood that was heavily populated by lesbians and gay men, and opened a camera store called Castro Camera. Milk became involved in politics because of civic issues and policies that drew his ire. Homosexuality was still heavily persecuted in the city at the time. In 1973, he announced his declared his candidacy for city supervisor. However, he faced a negative reception from the established gay political scene and lost the election. He lost his second election two years later. By this point, Milk had become a leading figure in the gay community, known as the “Mayor of Castro Street”, and had allies that included Mayor George Moscone, Assembly Speaker Willie Brown, and future Senator Diane Feinstein. Finally, in 1978, Milk was elected to the San Francisco Board of Supervisors, inaugurated January 8. During his tenure he was involved in a number of issues including childcare, housing, and police reform. Sadly, he only served eleven months in office before he, along with George Moscone, was assassinated by former supervisor Dan White, who was against many of Milks policies. Today, Harvey Milk is considered an icon of San Francisco and a martyr of the LGBTQ movement.

Rose Cleveland (1846 - 1918)

Rose Cleveland was the sister of U.S. President Grover Cleveland and, as such, acted as First Lady of the United States from his inauguration until he married Frances Folsom in 1886. After leaving the White House she became a teacher, writer, and lecturer in Indiana. At age 44 she started a romantic relationship with wealthy widow Evangeline Marrs Simpson. They exchanged numerous letters, some with explicitly erotic imagery. The relationship cooled after six years after Simpson married Episcopal preacher Bishop Henry Whipple, despite Cleveland’s protests. After Whipple died in 1901, their relationship resumed. Cleveland and Evangeline moved to Bagni di Lucca, Italy in 1910, where they cared for Evangeline’s ill brother and settled there after his death. They lived there together until Cleveland died during the 1918 Influenza Pandemic. After her death, Evangeline wrote “the light has gone out for me…the loss of this noble and great soul is a blow that I shall not recover from”. Evangeline died in 1930 and is buried in the cemetery in Italy next to Rose. Many of their letters remain an important part of LGBTQ history.

Andy Warhol (1928 - 1987)

Andy Warhol was an American artist, director, and producer who was a leading figure in the pop art movement of the 1950’s to 1970’s. This movement focused on combining fine art with elements of popular culture, hence the name pop art. Warhol’s paintings focused on mass produced consumer goods and celebrity portraits. Warhol’s most famous pieces include Campbell’s Soup Cans (1962), Green Coca-Cola Bottles (1962), Marilyn Diptych (1962), and Mao Tse-Tung (1972). He also directed and produced experimental films including Empire (1964) and Chelsea Girls (1966). His New York City gallery, The Factory, was a popular gathering place for artists, musicians, actors, socialites, and celebrities. In 1966, he became the manager of rock band The Velvet Underground, which became the house band of The Factory. In 1969, he created Interview magazine, which features interviews with celebrities, artists, musicians, and other creatives. Warhol lived openly as a gay man before the gay liberation movement and had a series of male partners. He said his sexuality was a major influence of his work. Warhol died on February 22, 1987 due to complications from a gallbladder surgery. Andy Warhol is regarded as one of America’s most famous visual artists.

Gladys Bentley (1907 - 1960)

Gladys Bentley was an American blues singer, pianist, and entertainer during the Harlem Renaissance of the 1920’s and 1930’s. Her career took off after performing at Harry Hansberry’s Clam House, a well known gay speakeasy in New York City. She gained popularity as a black, lesbian, cross dressing performer. She performed in men’s clothes and was backed up by a chorus of drag queens. She sang with a deep, growling voice, and took popular songs and added her own raunchy lyrics while flirting with women in the audience. Despite being openly lesbian in the beginning of her career, she later started wearing dresses and married during the more conservative 1950’s in order to adapt to the mindset of the time period. Bentley died of pneumonia in 1960 and is remembered as an icon of both the LGBTQ and Black communities.

Willem Arondeus (1894 - 1943)

Willem Arondeus was an openly gay Dutch artist and writer who fought for the Dutch resistance against Nazi occupation during World War II. Prior to the war, he wished to work as an artist, but he found very little popularity, so he turned to writing instead. After Germany occupied The Netherlands, Arondeus joined the Resistance Movement, publishing underground periodicals and forging documents. His most famous endeavor, was his involvement in the bombing of the Amsterdam Civil Registry in 1943. The Civil Registry was established following the German invasion and occupation of the Netherlands in 1940 and was used to keep records of all residents of the country and identified those who were Jewish, resistance members, and those who could be called up for forced labor. On March 27, resistance members, including Arondeus, entered the building by disguising themselves as police officers and sedating the guards. They then piled all the documents on the floor and set of explosives. They fire department delayed putting out the fire and then doused the whole building with water. 800,000 ID cards were destroyed in total. Unfortunately, someone betrayed Arondeus and he was subsequently arrested, tried, and sentenced to death. Before his execution, his last words were “tell people that homosexuals are not cowards”.

Gilbert Baker (1951 - 2017)

Gilbert Baker was an American artist and designer who is the original creator of the LGBTQ Rainbow Pride flag. He joined the anti-war movement in the 1970’s where he met, and became friends with, Harvey Milk. Milk commissioned Baker to create a flag that could represent gay pride. Using the American flag as inspiration, Baker hand sew the original flag, which had eight colored stripes (two more than the modern version). Each color represents a different aspect important to the gay community: (from hot pink to violet) sex, life, healing, sunlight, nature, magic, serenity, and spirit. The flag was first flown in San Francisco on June 25, 1978, for gay pride day. Baker died in 2017, and is regarded as a major figure in the pride movement. Today there are many different variations of the Pride flag, with each one representing a different group from the gay community

Larry Kramer (1935 - 2020)

Larry Kramer was an American playwright, author, film producer, and gay rights activist, who worked to bring awareness to the AIDS crisis in the 1980’s. He began his career writing scripts for Columbia pictures, winning an Academy Award for the 1969 film Women in Love. After witnessing the disease later known as AIDS spread among his friends, Kramer became involved in gay activism. In 1982, Kramer co-founded Gay Men’s Health Crisis, now known as GMHC, which provides social services for those infected with AIDS, along with testing, legal assistance, and mental health support. It’s currently the largest AIDS assistance organization in the world After, growing frustrated with the government paralysis and apathy towards gay men, he wanted to engage in further action, so in 1987, he helped found the AIDS Coalition to Unleash Power (ACT UP). ACT UP is a direct action protest organization that works to change legislation and public policy to end the AIDS crisis. ACT UP soon had chapters in cities all over the United States. The movement then spread internationally, with separate movements being established in other countries including the United Kingdom, Canada, France, India, and Germany. In 1992, Kramer wrote the play ‘The Destiny of Me’, which follows a character from his 1985 play ‘The Normal Heart’ seeking experimental treatment for AIDS. The play was a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize. The Normal Heart debuted on Broadway in 2011, and was adapted into an HBO movie in 2014. Kramer died of pneumonia on May 27, 2020.

Bessie Smith (1894 - 1937)

Bessie Smith was an American blues singer, nicknamed the ‘Empress of Blues’. She was the most popular female blues singer of the 1930’s. Smith stated her career busking in the streets to help her family financially. In 1912, she auditioned for a music troupe that included blues legend Ma Rainey. She was originally hired as a dancer. Smith began her solo career at the 81 Theater in Atlanta, Georgia. She signed with Columbia Records in 1923. She made 160 recordings for Columbia, accompanied by some of the most famous musicians of the day including Louis Armstrong, Coleman Hawkins, Fletcher Henderson, and Sidney Bechet. She became the highest paid black entertainer of the day. Throughout her career, smith was apologetically herself, having affairs with both men and women. Some speculate her bisexuality was hinted at in the lyrics of her songs, including ‘boy in the boat’: “when you see two women walking hand in hand/Just look ‘em over and try to understand/They’ll go to those parties/Having the lights down low/Only those parties where women can go”. Sadly, her career was cut short in 1937, when she died at the age of 43 due to injuries sustained in a car accident enroute to Chattanooga, Tennessee. Her funeral was attended by more then 5,000 people. In 1989, she was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, with an entry saying her reign was “definitive, unprecedented, and glorious”.

James Baldwin (1924 - 1987)

James Baldwin was an American writer who gained critical acclaim across multiple forms, including essays, novels, plays, and poems. In 1953, he published his first book ‘Go Tell it on the Mountain’, a semi-autobiographical novel which tells the story of a young African American man who grew up in Harlem, New York City, and his relationship with his family and the Pentecostal Church. In 1998, Modern Library ranked the book 39th on its list of 100 best English language novels of the 20th century. In 2005, Time Magazine included the book in its list of the 100 Best Novels from 1923 (when Time was first published) to 2005. In 1956, Baldwin wrote ‘Giovanni’s Room’ whose main character was a gay American man living in Paris, France, who began an affair with an Italian bartender named Giovanni, whom he met at a Gay bar. Gay and Bisexual men are also frequently featured in his other works. His unfinished manuscript Remember This House was expanded and adapted in the 2016 Oscar nominated documentary I Am Not Your Negro, which won the BAFTA Award for Best Documentary. His 1974 novel ‘If Beale Street Could Talk’ was adapted into a movie in 2018, which won Best Supporting Actress for Regina King at the 91st Academy Awards, where the film was also nominated for Best Adapted Screenplay and Best Original Score. King also received Best Supporting Actress at the 76th Golden Globe Awards and 24th Critics Choice Awards. Both the National Board of Review and the American Film Institute included it in their top 10 films of 2018. Today, James Baldwin is considered one of the most famous LGBTQ writers in American history.

#history #queer pride #pride month #queer stuff #queer history #lgbtq #bisexual #homoseuxality #gay pride #pride 2023

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ghostalservice · 3 months

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a new fic from @swashbuckling-sweethearts and me! Very spicy, very fun, very thin excuse for worldbuilding that nevertheless was a lot because we are who we are, and ALSO gorgeous embedded art from Holly!!

This fic ALSO put me over one million lifetime words on AO3, a very exciting milestone I met with the word HOLE, naturally.

The bud was absolutely beautiful, and Stede had never seen a saguaro bloom like this: all huge and skin-pink, delicate blush at the base and deepening to a dusky, dark red where the tips of the petals came together at the point, and he needed to get a closer look—he wished his camera could capture color, because goodness, would anyone believe them? “Ed!” He waves his arms, and his companion waves back from across the basin. “Come here! We need to have a record of this!” “Yeah, okay,” Ed calls back, and starts to jog over. And Stede’s only known the man for two days, though they’d exchanged brief telegrams before agreeing to meet for this expedition into the wilderness of Arizona, but gosh, he’s enjoying their time together. He’d needed an artist, someone to sketch what he found on his trip, because Stede is a botanist! (Or at least, he will be once he finishes this correspondence course) He’d put an advertisement in the paper, gave his address—his PO Box, naturally, because he can’t imagine what Mary would say to a telegraph showing up at the house for him—and Edward had been the first one to respond. (Well. He’d been the only one. But Stede had known, as soon as he’d opened Ed’s message, that he was the one for the job) And so they’d met out here, a three day train journey from Stede’s home in New York and a day and a half from Ed’s in San Francisco, to finish Stede’s final project with a real bang.

Read more at AO3!

#ofmd #our flag means death #my fic #gentlebeard #blackbonnet #our flag means death fanfiction #fuck or die #sex pollen

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chicanoartmovement · 10 days

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CHICANO ART MOVEMENT: “Las Manos de Aztlán” art talk with Emmanuel C. Montoya 2023/2024

(Social media capture of Montoya print sale.)

In early May 2023, the Apachicano artist Emmanuel C. Montoya, Bay Area creative, announced through his social media the availability to purchase his vintage prints. For Robert, it was the prime opportunity to add an artwork by Montoya who for many years has dedicated himself as an artist to the Chicana/Chicano community. Within a few moments and with technology’s help, we were in direct contact with Emmanuel and became patrons to the piece titled “Las Manos de Aztlán” - a linocut print measuring 16 inches by 17 inches and was specifically made for the Chicana/Chicano students and faculty on the campus of University of California at Santa Cruz in 1989.

A few weeks later and upon the arrival of the print, we unrolled to survey the “Las Manos de Aztlán” piece and were very intrigued to learn more about it. We messaged Montoya regarding the safe arrival of his artwork and inquired if he was available to answer a few questions about the piece itself. We explained to the artist that we wanted to ascertain more information about the “Las Manos de Aztlán” in order to write a future article.

Montoya replied that he was open to talking more over the phone and we coordinated a future & mutual date to go in-depth about his “Las Manos de Aztlán” print. We called el maestro Emmanuel C. Montoya and we were greeted with warmth y gusto from the artist who welcomed us with a “Que viva la Raza!” After exchanging introductions and stating it was our pleasure to speak with a great community member, artist, elder, and activist, Anita took the lead with this on this one-on-one interview with Emmanuel C. Montoya.

(View of “Las Manos de Aztlán” by Emmanuel C. Montoya, 1989)

When asked about the history and background surrounding the “Las Manos de Aztlán” print, Montoya shared that in 1989 he “was approached by Francisco X. Alacrón, the famous Chicano poet. He was teaching at UC Santa Cruz, at that time, and of course was involved with the Chicano students, at that time. I met him of course in the Mission in San Francisco back then in the ‘80s & ‘70s - very vibrant art community in the Mission at that time. So, he approached me. He’d seen my work and liked my work. He approached me about doing this poster celebrating the Chicano students at UC Santa Cruz. It was the ten year anniversary.”

Emmanuel explained that he featured the maguey at the center of the piece due to la planta’s resilience and adversity against many elements as well as its important symbolization in ancient and contemporary cultures. Montoya happily retold a funny moment of enlightenment when looking at “Las Manos de Aztlán” that “if you looked at the image,” said the artist, “it’s two hands - five and five - which adds up to ten. Of course, I didn’t know that. Somebody else pointed that out to me.” He laughed and continued: “Este so…the idea, of course, is my idea. I thought about the maguey plant which is an important symbol in pre-Columbian/Mexicano/Chicano history and culture. I have the two hands growing from the maguey plant and it, of course, symbolizes their ten years” as a Chicana/Chicano organization on the UC Santa Cruz campus in 1989.

(Detailed view #1 of “Las Manos de Aztlán”)

When asked why the medium of linocut was used, Emmanuel stated that it was his preferred style since he studied specifically printmaking in the woodblock linoleum cut format both at the undergraduate and graduate levels at San Francisco State University (B.A. 1985 and M.F.A. 1991). He explained: “I sort of studied in school but I was also inspired to study to develop my own style, my own interest, in linocut and printmaking. From the tradition and history of printmaking in Mexico. I was very inspired by the work of a number of different Mexicano printmakers in the mid 19th century, the Mexican Revolution. Out of that came so much culture and art and one of those organizations was Taller Gráfica Popular…artist workshop. It was founded in 1935 by Mexicano, Leopoldo Méndez, he along with a number of Mexicano artists and printmakers established this organization TGP [el Taller de Gráfica Popular]. How I can I say this? For me, it was inspiration, it was you know, it was my roots as Chicano artist, as a Chicano printmaker specifically, and I just, you know, did a lot of, how can I say this…research, read, and went down to Mexico…Mexico City…and meet some of those printmakers…Yes, I was…you know, it was my mecca.” He laughed as he recollected his inspiration which has not waivered at all, and has only gotten stronger since his youth.

We inquired more about that trip to El Taller and Montoya was glad to share that “it was such an inspiration…such an opportunity to meet some of those artists in person and trade artwork. And este, in 1985, el Taller was celebrating its 50 year anniversary and so they had a show at Bellas Artes in Mexico City. One of the artists that I specifically meet close to, and became good friends with Alberto Beltran. I met him through another Mexicano artist that was up here [California] in the ‘80s, working with muralists up here, Mexicanos/Chicanos muralists up here. I was introduced to him; Alberto and I became good friends. We communicated, correspondence, and I would send him materials - books, information about the arts as they were happening up here in the Chicano communities. And so, 1984 I got a chance to go down and actually meet him for the first time. And I spent a good time…20 years corresponding back and forth. All those letters and information that he would send me; I saved, I collected, and it is now housed in the Bancroft Library at UC Berkeley [...] He turned me onto all these other artistas: Arturo García Bustos, Alfredo Zalce - was one of the founders of El Taller and he was in Morelia. I had a chance to go out to Morelia and meet Alfredo Zalce. It was so inspiring and it was so historical for me to meet these artists that I had read about and saw their work. It was a delight.”

(Detailed view #2 of “Las Manos de Aztlán”)

Anita further inquired how that inspiration from visiting the artistic mecca of Mexico, El Taller, helped him with his techniques when making the print “Las Manos de Aztlán” for UC Santa Cruz; Montoya responded: “Yes…in 1989, I have been doing printmaking. I studied and did my graduate work in printmaking and my thesis was also in printmaking and actually, I wrote about the connection with Chicano printmakers and with the history and tradition of Mexican printmakers [...] The tradition of Mexican printmakers at that time, at El Taller, it was important to them to create things that reflect their times, you know. And it was work based in realism, you know, something to work with…to…the work that they did that reflected the revolution or reflected their history as Mexicanos, their history as pre-Columbian, Native peoples. It was all so inspiring and of course, for me being here in the Bay Area. I was born in Texas and came to California, came to the Bay Area in 1964. And have been here in the bay Area ever since. Went to school here; got involved in Chicano Art and Chicano Culture, and the Chicano community. A lot of that was inspired by what was happening in other communities across the country, in the midwest, in Texas, in Arizona, in Southern California area. It was all this, how can I say it, birth of activism…very much.”

Activism and resilience are some of the recurring themes within the vast works by Emmanuel C. Montoya - both big and small pieces. Montoya was glad to hear that CHICANO ART MOVEMENT had visited his works in the Bay Area via trips to:

CHICANO ART visits: San Francisco Public Library, Mission Branch 2013

CHICANO ART MOVEMENT visits: SFO Museum at San Francisco International Airport (SFO), California 2014.

(Detailed view of artist’s signature on “Las Manos de Azltán”)

To close the interview with the great artist Montoya, it was asked if he could share more about the term Apachicano as well as any projects that he was currently working on at his studio, Apachicano Art Productions. Emmanuel stated: “I am Apache and I am Chicano. I guess one day I decided to just put the two together. (Chuckles) My history as an Apache with that culture…many years…a chingado…in the past, I would say that for 40 years or so that I have become aware that I am Apache, I am Native American and what that means and how that’s reflect in the work that I do as an artist, as a print maker [...] I am retired [and] I work out of a studio; I have been for the past 35 years now here in Berkeley. I have produced quite a bit of work.”

During our final exchange, Emmanuel kindly extended an personal invitation to visit him and his taller in Berkeley and we in return, thanked Emmanuel for the honor to interview him and for the opportunity to learn more about him, his trajectory, his community work, and some of the unknown Chicana/Chicano art history.

#emmanuel c montoya #chicano art #bay area #san francisco #uc santa cruz #chicano anniversary #chicano artist #berkeley #texas #linocut #art print #apachicano #california art

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nsomniacsdream · 1 year

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I am 20 years old. I'm in France, learning French from a woman I am tragically in love with, and paying for a small apartment by being the only English speaking waiter at a bistro near the eiffel tower. One night, shortly before my visa expires and I have to return to the states, my French teacher kisses me as we look out over Paris, and we spend one night forgetting who and where we are, only thinking of each other.

This never happened.

I am 25 years old, and I live in San Francisco. I start my day with a bagel made minutes before I purchased it, and exchange pleasantries with the shop owner while he gets my cream cheese. I've seen movie stars in this shop before, and the owner is regaling me with the story of Danny Devito personally calling him a son of a bitch for being out of his onion bagels. I laugh, and can't imagine my life being more blessed. I hurry to my job at a dotcom startup, where I'm making more money than my mother made in a year every month. On the side, I'm taking classes on digital art, certain that it'll get me into the games industry.

This also never happened.

30 years old, and Japan has opened its arms to me. I was a diversity hire, I admit freely. Having a white man in a suit around adds cachet to a corporation, but I've been listened to often enough that they saw value in me beyond my appearance. My wife is considered a "troublesome woman", because she neither pretends to be younger than she is nor does she follow orders without question. But I love her, and she loves me. Our first child will be born soon. I have a very large collection of Manga, which my wife has helped me learn to read.

This timeline doesn't exist either.

My life is not what I thought it would be, back when I thought that the world was as big as your dreams. Paying the rent has unfortunately been the defining feature of my and the majority of people's lives. Tiny rooms with paper thin walls, that's where I was at 20. No Paris. 25 was spent in slightly larger rooms for twice the rent. Couldn't afford San Fran tho. 30, a tiny room again, because the job I thought would pan out didn't. I've never left the country, probably never will.

I like where I am, I met the love of my life while I was couch surfing between apartments, found a job I'm good at and enjoy, even if it's grinding my bones. But those other lives.. I can just barely see them at the edge of my vision some days. They're all still inside of me. They're real, even if they never happened. I remember the kiss. I can feel it. I can taste that bagel. I can feel my child's skin the day they were born. I feel like I've lived.. so many lives.

I wonder sometimes if this is the real one.

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savage-kult-of-gorthaur · 3 months

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COVER GIRL -- IT GIRL -- RET HAT GIRL.

PIC INFO: Part 2 of 2 -- Spotlight on American theatre/film actress Faye Dunaway on the March 4th, 1968 cover of "NEWSWEEK" magazine, photographed by her then fiancé Jerry Schatzberg in NYC, c. early 1968.

Source: https://kinoimages.wordpress.com/2012/08/05/faye-dunaway-by-jerry-schatzberg.

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onenettvchannel · 2 months

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#K5NewsFMExclusive: 'Vannamelon' gets a signed autograph from The Amazing Digital Circus male voice actor 'Jax' connects both sides for Gaming and Animation in a historic Twitch stream

SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA -- In a groundbreaking move within the online world of entertainment… Gaming personality and popular animated YouTuber 'Vannamelon' was received and claimed a physical signed autograph from a renowned male voice actor named Michael James Kovach last Saturday night (December 2nd, 2023). This exciting event took place on Michael's personal Twitch channel, where he conducted a LIVE printed autograph signing session for fans and even YouTubers.

Vannamelon, a 28 y/o content creator, general female personality, and a YouTuber from San Francisco, California, United States of America (U.S.A.), namely as 'Ms. Vanessa Marie Pareja', has been entertaining viewers ever since she started her channel on Sunday (November 1st, 2009 -- Pacific local time). She rose to fame for her active participation in the Pony fandom of 'My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic' in the latter part of 2011.

Meanwhile for Mr. Kovach (also 28), originates from Youngstown, Ohio, the aforementioned country. He's made a name for himself not only as the male voice character of Jax in the animated web series 'The Amazing Digital Circus' (TADC), but also as a popular Twitch streamer under the handle 'kovoxvg'. His charismatic presence and undeniable talent have garnered him a loyal following in the online gaming and art community.

The autograph exchange between Ms. Vanessa and Mr. Kovach was made possible through 'Streamily', a platform that offers limited edition autograph signings by various creators.

The commissioned art for the licensed autograph was provided by 'Sparky's Tea House', and Mr. Kovach personally handled the signing during his Twitch stream. Ms. Vanessa playfully added a personalized touch to the autograph, writing "to the #1 Jax simp", showcasing the dynamic between the two online personalities.

Speaking of the series, "The Amazing Digital Circus" follows the adventures of Jax and his companions, including Pomni, Ragatha and among others, as they navigate a virtual world filled with mystery and danger. Created by Glitch Productions, the show has gained a dedicated fan base, thanks to its compelling storytelling and high-quality animation. Mr. Kovach's portrayal of Jax has garnered praise from online YouTube viewers for his nuanced performance and unique voice acting.

As fans of both Vanessa & Kovach, speculate on the potential chemistry between the two (2), some have even theorized about a possible romantic relationship involved off-screen between Vannamelon's self-inserted persona and Jax (who is voiced with Mr. Kovach himself). Whether this dynamic duo will become a real-life power couple remains to be seen, but one thing's for sure -- their collaboration has left fans yet to be a crossover content at TADC, who were eagerly anticipating for what's happening next.

The physically signed piece of autograph exchange between Vanessa and Kovach, known for a possible shipping name as 'VannaJax' or 'VanessaKova', serves as a testament to the power of digital platforms, bringing fans closer to their favorite creators. As both of them continue to captivate hearts worldwide, one thing is certain – their impact on the world of gaming and animation on both sides is only just beginning.

As interactive experiences gain popularity between video-sharing and live-streaming platforms on YouTube and Twitch, the distinction between content creators, and their online netizens as audience becoming increasingly blurred, giving rise to a fresh era of independence in online entertainment.

THUMBNAIL PHOTO COURTESY: David Baron via YT VIDEO

SOURCE: *https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-AwsXqeUKs0 [Referenced YT VIDEO via Vannamelon] *https://youtube.fandom.com/wiki/Vannamelon *https://www.famousbirthdays.com/people/vanna-pareja.html *https://hazbinhotel.fandom.com/wiki/Michael_Kovach *https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Creator/MichaelKovach *https://streamily.com/the-amazing-digital-circus [Referenced Shop Listings via Streamily website] *https://www.twitch.tv/kovoxvg/about *https://tadc.fandom.com/wiki/The_Amazing_Digital_Circus_(Series) *https://tadc.fandom.com/wiki/Glitch_Productions *https://help.streamily.com/article/24-what-is-streamily *https://twitter.com/SparkysTeaHouse/status/1723480093186757008 [Referenced X Network Art Photo via Sparky's Tea House] *https://twitter.com/kovox/status/1726981565362880814 [Referenced X Network Relay Post via Michael Kovach] and *https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AuKrrJMkoyo&t=2209s [Referenced Twitch VoD Archive via Streamily on YT]

-- OneNETnews Team

#showbiz news #san francisco #california #vannamelon #jax #TADC #the amazing digital circus #VannaJax #signed autograph #YouTuber #fyp #exclusive #first and exclusive #k5 news fm #OneNETnews

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byneddiedingo · 8 months

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Kay Francis and William Powell in One Way Passage (Tay Garnett, 1932)

Cast: William Powell, Kay Francis, Aline MacMahon, Frank McHugh, Warren Hymer, Frederick Burton, Roscoe Karns, Herbert Mundin. Screenplay: Wilson Mizner, Joseph Jackson, Robert Lord. Cinematography: Robert Kurrie. Art direction: Anton Grot. Film editing: Ralph Dawson.

One Way Passage is a small gem that won an Oscar for best story by Robert Lord, though the story is by no means the best thing about it. It is, for example, a prime demonstration of romantic movie chemistry in its teaming of Kay Francis and William Powell. She plays a woman dying of MHM (Mysterious Hollywood Malady), and he's a convicted murderer who is going to be hanged at San Quentin. They meet in a somewhat seedy bar in Hong Kong. She bumps into him and makes him spill his drink, and when they exchange glances it's love at first sight. If you ever want to know what the phrase "acting with the eyes" means, just check out that scene. When they part, they smash their glasses and leave the stems crossed on the bar -- a gesture that becomes a motif through the film, even providing a near-perfect ending for it. They meet again soon, boarding a ship bound for San Francisco, though she's accompanied by her doctor (Frederick Burton) and he by the cop (Warren Hymer) taking him to his doom. The rest is just a matter of working out ways to keep their fatal secrets from each other as their romance blossoms. And if that were all there were to it, One Way Passage really wouldn't be much of a movie. Fortunately, there's as much larceny as love on board, with the introduction of con artist Barrel House Betty (the wonderful Aline MacMahon), who is posing as the Comtesse Barilhaus and is aided by a lightfingered lush known as Skippy (Frank McHugh); they seem to have fleeced their way around the world. A romance even develops between Betty and the cop as a comic counterpart to the main one. The screenplay by Wilson Mizner (who was something of a con artist himself) and Joseph Jackson gives us some salty tough talk dialogue to offset the romantic melodrama of the main plot. (Mizner and Jackson probably deserved the Oscar at least as much as Lord, but at the time, the Academy treated story and screenplay as two discrete categories.) The Production Code would probably have forced the screenwriters to tell us more about the murder Powell's character committed, but all we get is a suggestion that the victim had it coming to him. That everything in the movie comes in at only a little over an hour -- 67 minutes -- is another reason to cherish One Way Passage.

#One Way Passage #Tay Garnett #Kay Francis #William Powell

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casspurrjoybell-17 · 6 months

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HEART'S FATE - CHAPTER 59

*Warning Adult Content*

What does it mean to come home?

In Martin Hunter's experience, it depends who's waiting for you there.

As a kid, getting out of school and going home meant relief, playing with his brothers and sisters, delicious food cooked by his mom or dad, the comforting drudgery of homework and the promised reward of video games or his favorite cartoons.

As an adult, home became a place of anxiety.

Would Elena be waiting for him?

What sort of mood would she be in?

What might she have said or done to the kids in his absence?

Martin's greatest fear, on the rare occasions when he was away for any extended amount of time, was that he would come back to find them gone.

Now, as his partner, Skylar West parks their rental car in front of their house and four small figures burst from the front door and race across the lawn to greet them, coming home is pure joy.

********

Back on the private island, Shanti had promised to visit Martin's family before returning to her own realm and let them know that all was well.

Miguel's wolf, too, had visited his father once more in a dream, in which he told him how proud he was of him and how he had saved them all.

After that, however, there had been only a few phone calls from hotel rooms, which Martin kept short to avoid ridiculous fees.

Speaking of fees, as soon as Shanti disappeared into the sea, leaving them behind on the island, reality had caught up to Martin and he had a minor panic attack over how on earth they were going to get home with no passports and no money.

Fortunately, Skylar had been wrong about himself.

He had lost his ability to transform, to swim like a fish and breathe water instead of air but he had not lost his siren's Voice.

A quick trip to the U.S. Consulate in Palermo and they had everything they needed, which was proof enough that Skylar's Voice retained it's unnaturally persuasive power.

One does not simply walk into the U.S. Consulate, announce that one has no identification of any kind, request a replacement passport and expect to be accommodated speedily.

With their papers in hand, they'd visited a few reputable dealers of antiquities and a jeweler or two and exchanged some Mer-salvaged treasures and pearls for cash.

Thus equipped, they were set to travel in style.

Skylar led Martin on a meandering tour up through Italy, across the top of Spain and into France, where they followed the western coast, keeping mostly to small towns.

Finally they struck inland for Paris and from there caught a first-class flight to San Francisco.

They rested there for a day, visiting the Museum of Modern Art and Fisherman's Wharf, before renting a comfortable car and heading for home.

They could have made the drive in a day but Skylar had one last place he wanted to visit, the beach near Bodega Bay where they'd camped with the kids, where they bonded and where Skylar first made contact with Natalis and his 'father.'

Skylar said he wanted to watch the sun set over the ocean one more time before he bid the sea goodbye for a while and to give them the closure of coming full circle through their strange ordeal.

"Will you miss it?" Martin asked, as the last gleam of the sun slipped beneath the rim of the horizon, where a thin band of lavender-hued mist separated a dark sea from the turquoise and tangerine sky.

They'd parked at an overlook atop a bluff at a place called Duncan's Landing.

Below them was the little cove in which they'd made love.

"The sea will always call to me," Skylar said.

"As a siren song in my blood. There will be times I can't ignore it, when I feel I must go mad if I cannot hear the waves and feel the salt spray in the air. Then I will answer it and come to a place such as this, to soothe my soul. But I won't stay long and I hope I will not be alone."

Martin leant against him and closed his eyes, letting the sea saturate his senses, the rhythmic roar of waves and the buffeting wind against his skin, carrying with it the occasional cool kiss of salted mist.

"Sounds a bit like being a wolf. After a while our human skin starts to feel too tight and we long for freedom and release, the simplicity of a wolf's mind, wild as the sea but devoid of human thought."

"Hmm. I wonder what would happen if you bit me," Skylar mused.

"Would I become like you or turn out a scaly mer-wolf monster? Or would I become something else entirely?"

Martin pulled away from him in surprise and Skylar laughed.

"A question for the future, maybe."

"Maybe."

Martin leant against his mate again, looping an arm around his waist and filling his lungs with sea air.

Personally, the less magic, mayhem and mystery in his life, the happier he'd be.

At least for a while.

Martin suspected that between Flora, Miguel, Nico and Rio, he had some mayhem in his future, at least and probably plenty of magic and mystery, too.

They'd spent a last night alone together, at a little bed-and-breakfast 'the rainbow flag flying from the porch of which told them they'd be welcome' before completing the last leg of their journey and arriving home.

********

"Daddy."

Smiling so hard his face hurt, Martin is tackled to the ground and buried beneath a miniature dog pile.

The kids haven't been this glad to see him in a long time and it reminds Martin how fast time flies.

When Flora and Miguel were younger, they loved to run all the way across the school's playing field to greet him at the end of each day.

They'd meet in the middle and he'd pretend to be knocked off his feet, then roll around in the grass while they smothered him in 'attack' kisses.

Pretty soon, he'll be cheering them on as they graduate high school.

First dates, first jobs, first cars, first loves, tears sting his eyes at the thought of how much he could have missed and how grateful he is to be here now.

"Why are you crying, Daddy?" Nico asks, concern pinching his little brow.

He'll be a handsome one when he grows up, a real heartbreaker, for sure.

"I'm just happy, sweetheart," Martin says, catching his breath and drawing him and Rio into a hug.

"I'm happy to be home."

At his back, Skylar kneels and rests a hand on Martin's shoulder where he sits on the ground.

"Me, too," Skylar says.

"Are you gonna stay this time, Mr. Sky?" Rio asks, tears streaking his own cheeks.

He's the most empathetic of the four and cries easily.

Martin glances at him over his shoulder and Skylar smiles at him.

"Yes, I'm here to stay."

********

"What about Papa Sky," Skylar asks later that night as they lie in bed together.

It had been a full day of catching up with the family, especially Martin's brother Noah and his partner, Ambrose, who while they offered to look after the kids again any time they needed, seemed glad enough to be rid of them after three weeks.

"They could still call me 'Mr. West' at school, if you like."

Martin laughs into his pillow, half drunk with lingering jet lag and the sheer relief of lying in his own bed.

Despite his best efforts, Skylar hadn't been able to get Nico and Rio to drop the Mr. from before his name.

"Sounds good to me," Martin says, rolling to face him.

Skylar leans in and kisses his lover .

"You taste like the sea," Martin says.

Skylar draws back.

"The 'sea' contains quite a wide variety, my dear. There's everything from the beach at low tide to the freshest zephyr on the open waves."

Martin smiles, touching the end of his nose to Skylar's.

"The latter, definitely."

"You taste like... Well, you taste like toothpaste and mouthwash," Skylar says.

"Utterly mundane, adorable and perfect."

"Better than dog breath," Martin grins.

Skylar snorts.

"Go to sleep, my beautiful, wonderful, wolf-hearted man. Tomorrow, we start anew and we have everything ahead of us."

********

It takes a while but day by day, peace returns to their lives.

For Martin, true peace comes to nest in his heart for the first time, for which he is more grateful with each passing day.

If Skylar isn't beside him when he wakes, Martin hears him in the shower or downstairs making breakfast for the kids.

And each night, they fall asleep in each other's arms, knowing that each breath they take together is a gift.

Skylar returns to work for the school but rather than art 'he confessed he couldn't remain an objective judge when it came to the children' he coaches swim team.

Meanwhile, Martin returns to my role as a stay-at-home dad, for the moment.

Not everything is roses, disappearing from the face of the known earth for several weeks comes with consequences, as his agent duly informs him.

The publisher dropped him, apparently, due to his lack of ability to meet their deadlines and the offer of an advance has been withdrawn.

For once in his life, Martin is not worried.

Money is meaningless to Skylar, he can literally scoop it from the sea... 'Or his family can, anyway'.

He is not about to rely on him for everything or stop doing his share but he's also okay with letting Skylar take care of him, at least for a little while.

Because at long last, after everything, Martin is finally willing to believe what everyone's been telling him all along.

He fucked up in the past but he doesn't have to let the past define him.

He's more than the sum of his failures and he deserves something good.

He deserves a break.

So, he embraces it.

He throws himself into long overdue home repairs, take notes for a new book inspired by their trip through Europe and shower the kids in as much attention as they'll tolerate.

Martin let the past go.

At least, until the past comes knocking, literally in the form of his ex-wife Elena, almost a month to the day since our return.

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