medievalpoc:

Contemporary Art Week!

Leo and Diane Dillon

Various Illustrations

Leo and Diane Dillon were one of the greatest illustration teams in the history of Fantasy Art. Books that have used their illustrations for cover or inside art include an edition of the Narnia books, Garth Nix’s Sabriel, Lirael and Abhorsen, Her Stories and The Girl Who Spun Gold by Virginia Hamilton, The Earthsea Trilogy by Ursula K. LeGuin, Aida by Leontyne Price, The Girl Who Dreamed Only Geese by Howard A. Norman, and many, many more.

There is a blog dedicated to archiving their work here.

Hot Damn

OMG, I just realised I just used the phrase “hot damn” completely seriously and unironically in an email.

This must stop.

Spleen

Spleen: melancholy with no apparent cause, characterised by a disgust with everything, in the work of Baudelaire.

But he later smoked hashish as a cure for ennui or accedie, the medieval sin of meaninglessness from which only the promise of travelling - towards the distant ocean, to the other side of the mountains - retrieved him, even though he hardly left Paris. His imagination was his prime refuge from ennui - the hard work and pure exhilaration of a good poem, escaping from self-loathing and the torment of contradictory feeling by catching and holding these awkward, private passions in a line.

-Fred Inglis, A Short History of Celebrity

(It’s funny. I read and read and read Baudelaire when I was a teenager, especially Le Fleurs du Mal, but the memory of it is pretty much gone. Perhaps I should revisit, because this is p much a GPOY of my life right now, except replace “stories” for “poems”.)

obstaclespecialist:

Daniel Kessler from Interpol at Coke Live Music Festival, Poland (19.08.2011)

Daniel in full charm mode. You adorable little fuck.

Oh look it’s a full page of Kessler being adorable as fuck.

Please can I just have one of these to diminish the rrrrrrage every time I start to feel it picking up?

Reblogged from Elfyz's column

Should I Work For Free?

So today, after being hit with a £150 utilities bill, I finally hit my “fed up” limit with local organisations asking if they can use my Streatham Illustrations for free.

Did the old Should I Work For Free flowchart, and it replied not just “NO” but also “This is the most toxic line of bullshit anyone will ever feed you.”

You know what? I don’t need “exposure”. I don’t even want a puff piece profile in some BS local “community” magazine. If you think “full credit” is legitimate payment for using an illustration JESUS FUCKING CHRIST IN WHAT UNIVERSE IS IT OK TO PUT SOMEONE’S ILLUSTRATION IN A MAGAZINE WITHOUT CREDIT?

I have worked for free in the recent past. I did a logo for the Friends of Streatham Library. Why? Because it’s a non-profit, and if the library paid me for the logo, they would have had less money to spend on books, and I get a *lot* of books out of the library. I even let the Streatham Festival use a bunch of existing artwork in their publicity material. Why? Because although they didn’t pay me, they offered to give me, for free, a stall to sell merch at the Festival. (I am probably not going to do this now, but still, this is a legitimate exchange of services and fee waiver in exchange for the waiver of my fee.)

Anyway, I sent them back a polite email saying that my fees were £30 for a B&W illustration and £50 for a full colour illustration. I have no idea if this is cheap or expensive or what, but I’ve still go this £150 utility bill I’m staring at, and I am not working for commercial organisations (even “community based” ones) free any more.

Pier to Pier Networking

So coming back onto Tumblr again after the absence of 10 days or so (I really should see if I can increase my internet package so this doesn’t keep happening - but it really is animated gifs and YouTubes that kill my usage) is always weird. Like things change so fast, and yet they don’t change at all.

What have I been doing? Dealing with headhunters, mostly. I did an interview for a job I didn’t really want. They offered me the job, I turned it down because they expected me to work 9 hour days standard, but with regular overtime on top of that. When the headhunters asked me what it would take for me to take the job (probably expecting me to ask for more money) I said the only thing that would make me take it was accepting a pro-rata salary for a 4-day work week. They went off to negotiate this, and instead of just coming back and saying no, they came back and did a massive NEG at me. Which, fortunately, I recognised as a neg, and not a reflection on my employability. But still. Long hour overwork culture, I don’t get it. It doesn’t make people more productive, it makes them tired, resentful, and less work gets done instead of more.

So I have a phoner interview tomorrow for another role, and I’m not really keen on that one; I’m not really keen on any of the jobs that headhunters dangle in front of my face, but that might be me, and not the jobs.

I went to Brighton for my birthday - only for a day trip as I was feeling poor. I sat on the seafront and chucked pebbles in the water (you may have seen an illustration of this if the Flickr import worked) and walked back and forth along the pier. Brighton’s pier(s) have awakened the Pier Lust in me and now I desperately want to go on more pier walks. I think the last proper pier walk I did was Santa Monica Pier to Venice Beach Pier, last year in LA. I’m looking at the Essex sea front, because 1) faded seaside glamour!!!! and 2) a million billion Blur songs and 3) this hilarious interview with someone else who was born in Essex but has clearly never been back there since being born and in fact is completely unaware of the stereotypes associated with Essex. (Someone get this man a Mondeo to go with his shellsuit!) Being born in Essex (even by *accident*, as I was) is supposed to be something to be ashamed of. (“Essex Gal” is not a compliment, in fact, it’s the sort of thing most people would go to great lengths *not* to call their mothers.) I’m one to talk, considering I’ve been back there maybe 3 times since my birth. So I thought I should rectify this, because, honestly, there *are* nice bits of Essex.

Anyway, so I wanted to go to Walton-on-the-Naze, because not only the *name* (Naze means nose, but also the “Wal” is of the same Saxon derivation as “Wales” and the -wall in Cornwall. Here be Celts!) but also because it’s namechecked in a Blur song. And apparently there is a walk along the sea wall to Clacton-on-Sea which takes in not one but TWO decaying Essex seafront piers. But I make a poor mod, so I shan’t get in a ruck with any rockers, despite it being bank holiday weekend.

So that’s what I’ve been up to. Feel free to tell me what you’ve been up to in the reply box, if you fancy? And if you want a postcard from Walton or Clacton or Shoeburyness or any other forgotten seaside bits of Essex, drop me your address in an ask?

Sudden-Onset Celebrity, Chapter 5

In Chapter 5 of Sudden-Onset Celebrity, Daniel struggles to balance the commitments of a new girlfriend, a demanding dayjob, and playing shitty, no-hope fourth-band-on-the-bill gigs as an unsigned band in the East Village. Something has got to give, as things come to a head with Darin the dead-beat drummer.

Writing this chapter was a massive blast of nostalgia, well, really, not so much nostalgia, as throwing an affectionate glance backwards over the many, many trials and tribulations experienced by bands I was in over the years. Mild spoilers below:

(The “band making a massive political play for another band’s already agreed headlining slot” thing was The G0ss1p going after my band’s spot on the Ladyfest Tour. The “bandmate who missed soundcheck insulting the soundman and resulting in terrible, terrible sound for the rest of the gig” was with SC at the Luminaire in Kentish Town. The “weirdo who turns up at a gig who buttonholes your bassist wanting to put your flyers in an art show” actually happened to me at Nightingale’s, back in NYC. The “band leader tells the bartender to cut off your drink tickets to get you onstage sober”, as I’ve explained before, that was the Luna Lounge and I was the drunk. The “poached for a tour” thing was actually the bassist just before me in FS, and the poacher was the inhabitant of the rehearsal studio upstairs: J3ff Buckl3y. Who died shortly after, making the whole thing very, very weird indeed.)

Short History of the Feelings

The individual himself or herself is meanwhile increasingly in a hole. In this book, he or she scrutinises and revises the available states of feeling and not infrequently is at a loss to know what to feel. This gives birth to a familiar figure in our time which is the educated, intelligent person withdrawn from all social contact and commitment, frozen in a fearful condition of nonfeeling, locked into inaction. When the same condition repeats itself in a sensibility with fewer intellectual resources and in a person without even a job to provide a daily patterning of time, then the frozen sensibility may well break out into violent rages or uncontrolled hilarity precisely to force feeling of some kind into its veins.

-Fred Inglis, A Short History of Celebrity

So apparently, I can no longer upload photos directly to Tumblr. I have to stick them on Flickr, and then transfer them over. Internet, why are you so stupid?

Anyway, as I’ve been trying to say for days now: I have been having complicated ~feels~ about this man since reading his brother’s (beautiful) series of articles about his family in the Torygraph.

The blog about their father really got to me, in particular. I really did get the feeling that Interpol’s relationship with fascist iconography had to be complicated, and I understand that “dress like the people who beat you up in high school” is a way of coping with personal history, but “dress like the people who hounded your father out of 1930s Austria” is more than a little weird. However, I also feel a little weird about knowing this stuff. I assume his brother would have checked with his family that it was OK to share it, and Daniel wouldn’t have posted the link on his twitter if he wasn’t OK with it. But it still feels weird, and slightly intrusive.

(I have complicated feels about his brother writing for the Torygraph, too, but we can’t be held responsible for our siblings’ political views, can we now, says I, writing this on my estranged brother’s birthday, and feeling complicated. What’s bizarre is, I was aware of who his brother was for years before I had any idea who he was, and yet somehow never connected the two of them. Nepotism, in the British creative industries, will I ever stop being surprised by you?)

So apparently, I can no longer upload photos directly to Tumblr. I have to stick them on Flickr, and then transfer them over. Internet, why are you so stupid?

Anyway, as I’ve been trying to say for days now: I have been having complicated ~feels~ about this man since reading his brother’s (beautiful) series of articles about his family in the Torygraph.

The blog about their father really got to me, in particular. I really did get the feeling that Interpol’s relationship with fascist iconography had to be complicated, and I understand that “dress like the people who beat you up in high school” is a way of coping with personal history, but “dress like the people who hounded your father out of 1930s Austria” is more than a little weird. However, I also feel a little weird about knowing this stuff. I assume his brother would have checked with his family that it was OK to share it, and Daniel wouldn’t have posted the link on his twitter if he wasn’t OK with it. But it still feels weird, and slightly intrusive.

(I have complicated feels about his brother writing for the Torygraph, too, but we can’t be held responsible for our siblings’ political views, can we now, says I, writing this on my estranged brother’s birthday, and feeling complicated. What’s bizarre is, I was aware of who his brother was for years before I had any idea who he was, and yet somehow never connected the two of them. Nepotism, in the British creative industries, will I ever stop being surprised by you?)