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#Saturday news
hamletthedane · 2 months
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I was meeting a client at a famous museum’s lounge for lunch (fancy, I know) and had an hour to kill afterwards so I joined the first random docent tour I could find. The woman who took us around was a great-grandmother from the Bronx “back when that was nothing to brag about” and she was doing a talk on alternative mediums within art.
What I thought that meant: telling us about unique sculpture materials and paint mixtures.
What that actually meant: an 84yo woman gingerly holding a beautifully beaded and embroidered dress (apparently from Ukraine and at least 200 years old) and, with tears in her eyes, showing how each individual thread was spun by hand and weaved into place on a cottage floor loom, with bright blue silk embroidery thread and hand-blown beads intricately piercing the work of other labor for days upon days, as the labor of a dozen talented people came together to make something so beautiful for a village girl’s wedding day.
What it also meant: in 1948, a young girl lived in a cramped tenement-like third floor apartment in Manhattan, with a father who had just joined them after not having been allowed to escape through Poland with his pregnant wife nine years earlier. She sits in her father’s lap and watches with wide, quiet eyes as her mother’s deft hands fly across fabric with bright blue silk thread (echoing hands from over a century years earlier). Thread that her mother had salvaged from white embroidery scraps at the tailor’s shop where she worked and spent the last few days carefully dying in the kitchen sink and drying on the roof.
The dress is in the traditional Hungarian fashion and is folded across her mother’s lap: her mother doesn’t had a pattern, but she doesn’t need one to make her daughter’s dress for the fifth grade dance. The dress would end up differing significantly from the pure white, petticoated first communion dresses worn by her daughter’s majority-Catholic classmates, but the young girl would love it all the more for its uniqueness and bright blue thread.
And now, that same young girl (and maybe also the villager from 19th century Ukraine) stands in front of us, trying not to clutch the old fabric too hard as her voice shakes with the emotion of all the love and humanity that is poured into the labor of art. The village girl and the girl in the Bronx were very different people: different centuries, different religions, different ages, and different continents. But the love in the stitches and beads on their dresses was the same. And she tells us that when we look at the labor of art, we don’t just see the work to create that piece - we see the labor of our own creations and the creations of others for us, and the value in something so seemingly frivolous.
But, maybe more importantly, she says that we only admire this piece in a museum because it happened to survive the love of the wearer and those who owned it afterwards, but there have been quite literally billions of small, quiet works of art in billions of small, quiet homes all over the world, for millennia. That your grandmother’s quilt is used as a picnic blanket just as Van Gogh’s works hung in his poor friends’ hallways. That your father’s hand-painted model plane sets are displayed in your parents’ livingroom as Grecian vases are displayed in museums. That your older sister’s engineering drawings in a steady, fine-lined hand are akin to Da Vinci’s scribbles of flying machines.
I don’t think there’s any dramatic conclusions to be drawn from these thoughts - they’ve been echoed by thousands of other people across the centuries. However, if you ever feel bad for spending all of your time sewing, knitting, drawing, building lego sets, or whatever else - especially if you feel like you have to somehow monetize or show off your work online to justify your labor - please know that there’s an 84yo museum docent in the Bronx who would cry simply at the thought of you spending so much effort to quietly create something that’s beautiful to you.
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Julia Louis-Dreyfus, Letterman, ‘94
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neondreams83 · 4 months
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reynaruina · 1 month
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oddly intimate
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gunsatthaphan · 3 months
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"I really like you."
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julykings · 8 months
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summer’s end
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There's this website I like using with my students sometimes that has a bunch of simple lil virtual models on it to teach various aspects of ecology, like this one that shows how two species of bacteria compete in a petri dish to illustrate niches, and this one that shows both how to estimate field vole populations using mark-recapture but also how their trap preferences affect the results, and this much fancier one showing how barnacles are affected by sea level rise. They are simple and fun and pedagogically useful. I like them.
I also want to make one of my own to teach climate proxies; sediment cores using foraminifera and their temperature-induced spiralling shells, for example, or pollen or beetle casings or what have you. Tree rings. Ice cores. Shit like that. So, the student would have an image of a layered sediment core, the model would generate random-but-within-parameters numbers of clockwise or anti-clockwise spiral foraminifera, in each layer, boom. Past climate record generated.
THE PROBLEM: I am a fucking moron when it comes to coding. I have tried so many times. It just absolutely resists my ability to understand. It's my Achilles heel. I'm an imbecile. A cretin. A joke.
THE POSSIBLE SOLUTION: my friend Dan who knows how to code.
THE NEW PROBLEM: there has been an XKCD-style assumption about baseline knowledge
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dadrielle · 2 months
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I can't draw anything for valentine's day today because I am in the final phases of moving hell but I LOVE THEM I HAVE TO POST SOMETHING SO HAVE AN OLDER SKETCH
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catsinmugs · 1 month
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justjonesingaround · 1 year
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happy stampede saturday y'all
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buglaur · 8 months
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lunavagans · 5 months
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Okay but like
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Why haven‘t I seen anybody talk about how uneven the red is on his cheeks? And he looks like he‘s about to cry? I‘m connecting the dots, and it‘s unpleasant.
EDIT BECAUSE HOLY SHIT THIS STILL HAUNTS ME: The job of painters usually is also to make someone look better than they actually do, meaning this being shown was a deliberate choice. It‘s not just that Gepetto hit him. It‘s that he chose to show it, too. What the hell
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betashift · 11 months
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STAR TREK: STRANGE NEW WORLDS (2022-)
SEASON 1 — Space. The final frontier. These are the voyages of the starship Enterprise. Its five-year mission, to explore strange new worlds, to seek out new life and new civilizations, to boldly go where no one has gone before.
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shiny pretty hair and smile.
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aprilblossomgirl · 1 month
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Cherry Magic Thailand (2023-2024) Episode Twelve (FINALE)
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petite-madame · 1 year
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There is not just one musician in the family - (2022)
There's one thing a lot of people don't know about the Holmes brothers: Sherlock isn't the only musician in the family.
ETA: I’m spoiled! This artwork inspired four fics in a span of only a week. A big thank you to the authors for their hard work, I’m so happy. Please, enjoy the following stories:
Cello by janto321 (FaceofMer) (Greg Lestrade/Mycroft Holmes - General audiences - Fluff, domestic fluff - 465 words - Greg comes home to hear Mycroft playing his cello )
You are the only one who sees me by Mimisempai (Greg Lestrade/Mycroft Holmes - General audiences - Fluff, established relationship - 1081 words -  Greg comes home early from work and surprising Mycroft, he discovers something new about his lover...)
Playing in the Dark by InnerSpectrum (Greg Lestrade/Mycroft Holmes - General audiences - Established relationship - Implied/Referenced Character Death - 360 words - Greg awakens to music in the dark house and is reminded Sherlock is not the musician in the family...)
Compositions by afteriwake (Mycroft Holmes/Molly Hooper - General audiences - Pregnant Molly Hooper - Dead Sherlock Holmes - Developing Relationship - 654 words - Mycroft is composing a lullaby for Molly and Sherlock's son.)
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