I’m about to expose the men. Whenever you ask a man’s height, he’ll add an inch. So if he’s 6 foot, he’ll say he’s 6’1 and if he’s 6’2, he’ll say he’s 6’3.
Not me though. I subtract 4. I say I’m 5’9. Especially when there’s other men in the room. And then I just watch them panic. Not only have you exposed his lie, but now he thinks he’s 5’3.
i think anne magills paintings and Edward hoppers are like .. exact opposites. hoppers has the distinct clarity to it, a sharpness in the lines and the angles that contributes to an overwhelming sense of loneliness in almost every one of his paintings. even in his paintings that dont portray isolation there is a feeling of separation
loneliness vs. aloneness
magill, on the other hand, has this haziness to her paintings that emanates a warmth even when the subjects in her paintings are alone.
both paintings feel so comforting, and even in the second one where the girl is alone she is still in the presence of the visceral world around her - there’s a familiarity in magills painting that she captures nicely.
i guess i just think it’s interesting because hopper and magill are two of my favorite artists and they paint similar scenes with very different tones -
I’ve always thought that hoppers paintings are a snapshot of urban loneliness - the distinctness of it, the use of cool colors, the stark contrast between the people and their settings - whereas magills paintings seem almost like memories - their use of haziness and blurriness is exactly how someone wild remember something, indistinct, full of feeling and lacking detail
It’s wilder than that. You feel the temperature drop around you. Animals start to freak out cause they think night has fallen. Even more crazy is shadow snakes. Where you see the shadows around you start to shimmer. Kind of like the shadows of atmospheric disturbances you see during really hot days or near a fire.
My unga bunga ancestors, absolutely surrounded by shadow snakes during an eclipse
Also, the overall tone of the light is wrong and it’s almost impossible to articulate why.
It’s not dark per se, but the light doesn’t just seem dimmed, it seems like it’s in a different spectrum.
It feels like when a movie puts a filter over the film to indicate that something very very bad is happening, like an eldritch horror has arrived offscreen, and the bad light is slowly sucking your soul out of your body, only it’s real life, and the bad light permeates everywhere.
Imagine being a caveman and looking up one day to see the sky has gone dark and what looks to be God’s eye is starting directly at you
It’s actually much worse then this. All you need to do is to look at their imdb pages to see that Adele Lim has more credits and experience under her belt then Chiarelli.This is VERY important because the usual excuse when there is a massive difference in salary is that one party is more experience then the other and this is natural to pay them more. And yet here she is the one with more experience and yet with a drastically lower cut. This is both racial and gender discrimination and there is absolutely and utterly no excuse
me: *just joking* hehhe shut up
cancer: if you know how i feel why would you say that like you put me in such an uncomfortable situation like you know I’m not happy
A dating service where matching is based on people’s search history exists. You’re a serial killer. You go on a date with a writer.
Serial Killer: metaphorically, if you were to kill someone, how would you do it?
Writer: Air shot between the toes, it’ll look like a heart attack.
Serial Killer who is obviously in love already: *sucks in a breath* ok
Writer: how long would it take to die if you were to potentially stab someone in the guts
Serial killer: anywhere from 2 to 30 minutes
Writer, already bringing a ring out: *shaking* thanks
A++ addition
Writer: *shows the serial killer the murder scene they’re writing* babe, i’m not sure if this would actually work?
Serial killer: *kisses writer on the forehead and leaves, comes back later, a suspicious scent of blood coming off them* it works baby, you’re doing great
I LOVE THIS
Oh no, murder comedy is my jam
I love this, I love all of this, but quick question, does the author know? Like are they aware that their significant other is a serial killer or do they just think that they have a morbid sense of humor? It’d be even funnier if the author had no fucking clue, like how Aurthur Conan Doyle was apparently stupidly gullible, and on top of it they’re a horror or crime novelist. Like the serial killer works at a butcher shop or something so it’s completely normal for them to come home smelling like blood, no murders going on here, no sirey. Just my darling coming back home from a long day at work.
Now fast forward a bit and the author has managed to get their first book published, with loving support from the serial killer who helped them fine tune all the murder scenes, and it’s a big hit. Enough so that a detective with the local police department has noticed some disturbing similarities to several active cases, including details that were never released to the press. Obviously he brings this up to his superior and convinces him that there’s something to the theory, but it’s all circumstantial right now. He stakes out the author’s home and is super convinced that the author is the murderer, but they don’t seem to do anything??? Like they literally are at the house all day, that’s it. Most they do is leave for groceries.
So you get this dynamic of the serial killer mining the author for creative murder schemes, the author being lovingly encouraged by the serial killer, and finally the detective who is just so sure that the author is the killer and that if he sticks it out long enough he’ll FINALLY have proof.
Plot twist, The serial killer and detective use to go out so it gets sub what personal.
“You need to stop seeing them. I think they are a serial killer.”
Serial killer breaths in. “Look-”
…perfect
I don’t like actual murder mysteries, but this is perfect
THE ORIGINAL POST HOW DID I GET SO LUCKY
Oh my godI would watch/read the hell out of this shit
This is a “plein air” painting which means I set up my easel right across the street of this Chase bank in my city and painted it like it had caught fire. The police questioned me on the spot. Three weeks later Homeland Security was knocking on the door to my home. The question they kept asking me was “Do you hate these banks?” I can honestly say yes.
And I just think this is the greatest artist statement I’ve ever read.
