There is an old belief in Serbian villages and small towns that certain pumpkins (and watermelons), when left outside during a full moon, will turn in to a vampire.
It happened in a garden. It happened when his hereditary enemy slithered up beside him and they watched human history unfold for the very first time in front of their eyes and out of their reach, wondering about Right And Wrong when really they ought to have been wondering why they were standing side by side.
As the first rain drops fell they huddled together, one Fallen Angel and one About To Fall but in a different way, hovering on a precipe he did not see until centuries later. The snake’s yellow, amused eyes had burned themsleves into his being, and Aziraphale had known back then that they would never quite leave him. He extended one wing, and with it an unspoken invitation.
It happened in Rome, when against his better judgement he approached the demon he should have been thwarting only to offer him temptation, of all things, and to rejoice when he received a smile and dinner company. Aziraphale had loved oysters before, but that day they had tasted sweeter. He’d credited Petronius.
It happened in London–where it would happen many times more–when Crowley did Good for his sake and Aziraphale betrayed Heaven for logic; when he could no longer deny that they were opposing forces complementing each other as shadow complements light. Maybe they weren’t cancelling each other out. Maybe they were completing each other.
They came to agree on an Arrangement, a transgression that felt far too right to be so very wrong, not when it was him he was transgressing with (and when it changed nothing of the outcome, Aziraphale reminded himself, almost as an afterthought). And not when he suspected that a part of Crowley was rejoicing in the reverse betrayal of Hell, in doing good for Goodness’ sake.
It happened in France, when Aziraphale had been supposed to die and found himself, crêpe in hand, beside an old friend who had saved his life for the hell of it, expecting nothing in return. The sound of Crowley’s voice made his heart beat faster, even if he tried blaming it on the guillotine outside.
It happened in a church, when a demon tread on holy ground to rescue an angel. When Crowley handed him a bag of old books saved by a demonic miracle while Heaven was silent and Aziraphale toppled off that precipe he had been balancing on for thousands of years. The church was gone but Crowley was still there, waiting for him, and Aziraphale was standing in between rubble but Falling, and his heart ached at the impossibility of it.
It happened in a car–not in a car, in the car, the same one that had driven him home through the Blitz and in which he was now handing his best friend the tool for his destruction because he could not bear to think of a world without Crowley. They had been together since the Beginning, and he needed to know he’d be there with him until the End.
It happened at the End Of All Things, when all was lost and still they could not give up, not the world and not each other. Aziraphale had not been able to run away because he knew there was nowhere to run, but as human history folded in on itself as they stood side by side one last time he realized that Until The End was not enough.
It happened when Aziraphale no longer wondered about Right And Wrong because he knew. It had always been them, side by side, without question. At a bus stop, on a park bench, in a quiet flat, a bustling bookshop, at the Ritz. In a garden. He understood, now. It had happened when they’d started it, and when they had refused to let it end. It had been happening all along, slowly and all at once. And it was still happening.
Aziraphale had not exactly fallen in love: he had sauntered vaguely downwards.
Look at how they framed the shots of Adam’s confrontation with Satan.
He’s got, quite literally, a demon and an angel over each shoulder.
AND THAT’S NOT EVEN THE BEST PART.
Because in those classic depictions of the angel and the devil each perched on a shoulder, the two are always portrayed as fighting with one another, each trying to influence a person for Good or Evil, but HERE they’re not fighting. At least, not with each other.
Though they’ve employed different methods to reach this end, they are united in a common goal. Save Adam. Save the world.
Crowley and Aziraphale are a visual representation of what Adam has within himself – what all humans have within themselves, the potential for good and evil / light and dark / whatever you want to call it.
And I think what this scene is visually implying is that it’s okay to have a bit of both – in fact, it’s probably for the best, given the cruelty we see dished out by those who are purely angel and demon.
Adam has both good and evil within him. All humans do. And THAT is what allows him to choose to rebel against his father. And it’s that very choice which makes the rebellion possible because it proves beyond all doubt that he is something the antichrist could not possibly be – human.
Best visual representation of functional depression I’ve ever seen. You go to work, do the things that people expect you to do, then come home and just… blank out. Microwave is your best friend. Cleaning makes no sense. Drinking helps a little, sometimes. Every evening is the same. Nothing ever changes except the amout of trash waiting to be thrown out.
This is why I loved Fraction’s Barton. Clint’s very visible depression gave me a hook that I could suddenly relate to. I’ve been where Clint was. It sucked. But seeing Clint keep going kind of gave me hope.
is… is that what that is?
fuck, that explains everything
There’s a million reasons to love Fraction’s Clint Barton, but the way he is visibly but quietly struggling with mental issues is one of them.
if you’ve ever wondered what it’s like to live in the midwest, this is it.
You missed some of the best ones
the best part about it is that the art installation isn’t actually called the Bean. It’s called Cloud Gate, and artist Anish Kapoor (yes, THAT Anish Kapoor) hates that we call it the Bean.
But i mean, look at it. It’s a bean.
How could you forget this one though
I HAD NO FUCKING IDEA THAT THE BEAN WAS CREATED BY ANISH KAPOOR.
someone help me why is anish kapoor important what did he do?
Alright sit down for some Art World Drama bcause this is what I live for.
So, sometime last year (?) science invented Vantablack, which is the darkest possible shade of black. Art world got incredibly excited. But as it needs to be very carefully made in a lab, it’s hard to get a hold of, and is extremely expensive. Enter Anish Kapoor, aka FuckFace McGee. Anish Kapoor buys the rights to Vantablack. He is the only human being on the planet that can legally use it, and he’s kind of a prick about it.
Art world is not thrilled with that.
Enter Stuart Semple.
Stuart Semple is an artist, and also makes pigments to sell in his free time. Stuart Semple is astoundingly pissed about this Vantablack nonsense, and Anish Kapoor’s dickery. Stuart Semple makes a new pigment, the brightest shade of pink ever, called Pinkest Pink, and puts it for sale on the internet. To be bought by everybody except Anish Kapoor. Literally, to purchase, you need to confirm that you are not Anish Kapoor, do not associate with him, and will not sell or give the pigment to Anish Kapoor or his associates. Art world has a good laugh, everyone buys Pinkest Pink because it’s awesome, and damn it we deserve something.
Anish Kapoor however is a penis, and will not take this lying down, because HOW DARE he not have literally everything.
Anish Kapoor gets his London associates to buy him a thing of Pinkest Pink, and being such a classy human being, posts a picture to instagram of him with his middle finger covered in Pinkest Pink, captioned with “Up yours. #pink”
Everyone flips shit, because. Y’know. Fuck that guy. Especially Stuart Semple. For context here, Anish Kapoor is one of the richest artists on the planet, and has repeatedly been referred to as everything wrong with the art world, and the epitome of the art worlds elitism problem. He’s a giant douchebag. Meanwhile Stuart Semple makes pigments just to get them out there. He turns 0 profit from his now enourmously popular pigments.
Stuart Semple launches an investigation as to who the fuck leaked Pinkest Pink, and plans to strike back. He does so by releasing two new products. First is Diamond Dust, which is a glitter made from glass, so that a painting is still visible after it’s applied, but glitters like a mofo. It’s the most reflective glitter out there, and is available to everyone who isn’t Anish Kapoor. And it being made of glass, if you stick your finger in there, it’s going to hurt quite a bit, so that was Stuart Semple’s way of saying “shove your middle finger in this, asshole, see what happens”. Except without saying that, because he can get an insult across while still being fucking classy.
He also releases Black 2.0, created with the help of over a thousand artists worldwide.
Black 2.0 is the answer to Vantablack. Black 2.0 is a slightly less black black, but looks functionally the same to the human eye. It’s completely safe, smells like cherries, and costs four pounds. Vantablack is highly toxic, potentially explosive, needs to be applied in a special laboratory and sealed properly, can’t be moved across borders, can reach 300 degrees celsius if you’re not extremely careful, and costs thousands of dollars. Anish Kapoor is the only human being who can use Vantablack. He is the only human being who cannot use Black 2.0.
So I think we can guess who got the better deal.
And thus the feud ends, Kapoor defeated.
…But not quite.
Kapoor, in this entire afair, has made exactly two comments to the public. The first being his charming message about aquiring Pinkest Pink, the second being claiming to Buzzfeed that he and his small army of lawyers will be suing Semple, an extremely poor artist who cannot afford a lawyer.
No lawsuit has been made yet, fyi.
The point is, Kapoor is a prick, and doesn’t like talking to the lower classes. So one day in July 2017, he decides he needs another floor on his London studio apartment, and starts making arrangements to have it built. His neighbors are fucking pissed, because this will ruin the light of their apartments. They call to Semple to save them, or at the very least piss Kapoor off some more.
Semple answers to the call, and releases two new paints, Phaze and Shift, as always, banned to Kapoor. They change colours, Phaze with temperature, and Shift is just iridescent. Shift needs to be painted over Black 2.0 to work, and Phaze just works on its own.
So that’s been the art world for the last two years.
Basically, get fucked Anish Kapoor your bean sucks and so does your vantablack.
Stuart Semple is organising a bean-kissing event for Anish Kapoor’s birthday.
Reblogging for “By attending this event you confirm that you are not Anish Kapoor, you are in no way affiliated with Anish Kapoor, you are not attending on behalf of Anish Kapoor or an associate of Anish Kapoor. To the best of your knowledge, information, and belief this event will not be attended by Anish Kapoor.”
ALSO HE JUST POSTED THIS!!!!!! LIGHTEST LIGHT!
I know this isn’t my art blog but this entire post gives me life
im sorry is that man holding a real actual miniature star in his hands
Y’all missed the best part about the lightest light, called aptly ‘Lit’. This is from their product page:
Two things:
1. “Anish Kapoor is however a penis” is the best line in this post.
2. I wish to be half as petty and half as awesome as Stuart Semple
I hope Stuart Semple is making a lot of money. What a good person.
Go support him the paint’s are pretty cheap and you get the added bonus of being one of many to help piss off Anish Kapoor
He is my fucking role model for pettiness oh my god
It got better! I’m also excited because he just released biodegradable glitter in non plastic containers! How amazing is that?! Stuart Semple, good guy for the planet and artists, fighter against the rich elite artist like asshole Kapoor.
Every addition to this post is better than the last.
I am bi for one (1) man and his name is Stuart Semple
One of these days I want to get every product he has ever made. One for me, one for Raven. I don’t paint, but I will do something awesome with them. Because Stuart Semple is my hero.
Anish Kapoor is 64??? Every story I’ve heard about him I figured he was like maybe at the MOST 24. He’s 64??? That makes him even more pathetic
