Leroy Neiman Washington Square ParkLeroy Neiman The Brooklyn BridgeLeroy Neiman Roulette IILeroy Neiman Marlin FishingLeroy Neiman Mardi Gras Parade
butter, enough young couple. He just wasn’t sure why he was sitting next to them, and why they were so important.
He was used to important people, or at least to people who thought they were important. Wizards became important through high deeds of magic. Thieves became important for daring robberies and so, in a slightly different way, did merchants. Warriors became important through winning battles and eight sausages in a bun, a jumbo cup of fizzy drink, and a bag of chocolate‑covered raisins.’ He handed over the money.‘Right,’ said the Chair, gathering up the containers. ‘Er. Do you think we should get something for the others?’ In the picture‑throwing room Bezam cursed as he threaded the huge reel of Blown Away into the picture‑throwing box.A few feet away, in a roped‑off section of the balcony, the Patrician of Ankh‑Morpork, Lord Vetinari, was also ill at ease.They were, he had to admit, a pleasant
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Leroy Neiman Elephant Nocturne
Leroy Neiman Elephant NocturneLeroy Neiman Elephant FamilyLeroy Neiman Churchill DownsLeroy Neiman Chicago Key Club BarLeroy Neiman Chicago Board of Trade
it was going to flower . . .
Cut-me-own-Throat Dibbler, or C.M.O.T. as he liked to be called, sat up in bed and stared at the darkness.
In his head a city was on fire.
He fumbled hurriedly beside his bed for the matches, managed to light the candle, and eventually located a pen.
There was no paper. He specifically told everyone there ought to be some paper by his bed, in case he woke up with an idea. Holy Wood was written this was the one they’d point to and say: That was the Moving Picture to End all Moving Pictures!
Trolls! Battles! Romance! People with thin moustaches! Soldiers of fortune! And one woman’s fight to keep the - Dibbler hesitated - something-or-other she loves, we’ll think about this lThat’s when you got the best ideas, when you were asleep. At least there was a pen and ink . . . Images sleeted past his eyes. Catch them now, or let them go forever . . . He snatched up the pen and started to scribble on the bedsheets. A Man and A Woman Aflame With Passione in A Citie Riven by Sivil War! The pen scritched and spluttered its way across the coarse linen. Yes! Yes! This was it! He’d show ‘em, with their silly plaster pyramids and penny-and-dime palaces. This was the one they’d have to look up to! When the history of ater, in a world gone mad!
it was going to flower . . .
Cut-me-own-Throat Dibbler, or C.M.O.T. as he liked to be called, sat up in bed and stared at the darkness.
In his head a city was on fire.
He fumbled hurriedly beside his bed for the matches, managed to light the candle, and eventually located a pen.
There was no paper. He specifically told everyone there ought to be some paper by his bed, in case he woke up with an idea. Holy Wood was written this was the one they’d point to and say: That was the Moving Picture to End all Moving Pictures!
Trolls! Battles! Romance! People with thin moustaches! Soldiers of fortune! And one woman’s fight to keep the - Dibbler hesitated - something-or-other she loves, we’ll think about this lThat’s when you got the best ideas, when you were asleep. At least there was a pen and ink . . . Images sleeted past his eyes. Catch them now, or let them go forever . . . He snatched up the pen and started to scribble on the bedsheets. A Man and A Woman Aflame With Passione in A Citie Riven by Sivil War! The pen scritched and spluttered its way across the coarse linen. Yes! Yes! This was it! He’d show ‘em, with their silly plaster pyramids and penny-and-dime palaces. This was the one they’d have to look up to! When the history of ater, in a world gone mad!
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Paul Cezanne The Black Clock
Paul Cezanne The Black ClockPaul Cezanne The Banks of the MarnePaul Cezanne Still Life with OnionsPaul Cezanne Still Life with KettlePaul Cezanne Still Life with Fruit
can’t film at night, Uncle,’ said the nephew hurriedly. ‘The demons wouldn’t be able to see. I don’t see why we can’t put up a card saying "Night-time" at the start of the scene, so that-’
‘That’s not the magic of moving pictures!’ snapped Dibbler. ‘That’s just messing about!’
‘Excuse me,’ said Victor. ‘Excuse me, but surely it doesn’t matter, because surely the demons can paint the sky black with , Mr Dibbler. What’d they want money for? They’d only eat it. We start telling them to paint what isn’t there, we’re into all sorts of-’
‘Perhaps it’s just a very bright full moon?’ said Ginger.
‘That’s good thinking,’ said Dibbler. ‘We’ll do a card where Victor says to Ginger something like: "How bright the moon is tonight, bwana".’
‘Something like that,’ said Soll diplomatically. stars on it?’ There was a moment’s silence. Then Dibbler looked- at Gaffer. ‘Can they?’ he said. ‘Nah,’ said the handleman. ‘It’s bloody. hard enough to make sure they paint what they do see, never mind what they don’t.’ Dibbler rubbed his nose. ‘I might be prepared to negotiate,’ he said. The handleman shrugged. ‘You don’t understand
can’t film at night, Uncle,’ said the nephew hurriedly. ‘The demons wouldn’t be able to see. I don’t see why we can’t put up a card saying "Night-time" at the start of the scene, so that-’
‘That’s not the magic of moving pictures!’ snapped Dibbler. ‘That’s just messing about!’
‘Excuse me,’ said Victor. ‘Excuse me, but surely it doesn’t matter, because surely the demons can paint the sky black with , Mr Dibbler. What’d they want money for? They’d only eat it. We start telling them to paint what isn’t there, we’re into all sorts of-’
‘Perhaps it’s just a very bright full moon?’ said Ginger.
‘That’s good thinking,’ said Dibbler. ‘We’ll do a card where Victor says to Ginger something like: "How bright the moon is tonight, bwana".’
‘Something like that,’ said Soll diplomatically. stars on it?’ There was a moment’s silence. Then Dibbler looked- at Gaffer. ‘Can they?’ he said. ‘Nah,’ said the handleman. ‘It’s bloody. hard enough to make sure they paint what they do see, never mind what they don’t.’ Dibbler rubbed his nose. ‘I might be prepared to negotiate,’ he said. The handleman shrugged. ‘You don’t understand
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Thomas Kinkade The old fishing hole
Thomas Kinkade The old fishing holeThomas Kinkade The Light of FreedomThomas Kinkade The Hour of PrayerThomas Kinkade The Heart of San FranciscoThomas Kinkade Sweetheart Cottage II
smashed through the door, coming to a stop in its wreckage twenty feet away. There was a cheer from the queue.
Dibbler the troll’s short and bandy legs and hopped over the remains of the gate, but Detritus didn’t do anything about this because everyone knew dogs weren’t anyone.
‘Mr Silverfish?’ said Dibbler.
Silverfish, who had been cautiously crossing the studio with a box of looked approvingly at the troll. Detritus was wearing nothing except a ragged loincloth which covered whatever it was that trolls felt it necessary to conceal. ‘Very good, Detritus.’ ‘Right you are, Mr Dibbler.’ ‘But we shall have to see about getting you a suit,’ said Dibbler. ‘Now, please guard the gate. Don’t let anyone in.’‘Right you are, Mr Dibbler.’ Two minutes later a small grey dog trotted through
smashed through the door, coming to a stop in its wreckage twenty feet away. There was a cheer from the queue.
Dibbler the troll’s short and bandy legs and hopped over the remains of the gate, but Detritus didn’t do anything about this because everyone knew dogs weren’t anyone.
‘Mr Silverfish?’ said Dibbler.
Silverfish, who had been cautiously crossing the studio with a box of looked approvingly at the troll. Detritus was wearing nothing except a ragged loincloth which covered whatever it was that trolls felt it necessary to conceal. ‘Very good, Detritus.’ ‘Right you are, Mr Dibbler.’ ‘But we shall have to see about getting you a suit,’ said Dibbler. ‘Now, please guard the gate. Don’t let anyone in.’‘Right you are, Mr Dibbler.’ Two minutes later a small grey dog trotted through
Monday, March 23, 2009
Gustav Klimt Schloss Kammer Am Attersee II
Gustav Klimt Schloss Kammer Am Attersee IIGustav Klimt Portrait of Adele Bloch (gold foil)Gustav Klimt Judith II (gold foil)Gustav Klimt Hygieia (II)Gustav Klimt Goldfish (detail)
'Cower, mortal,' said the Sphinx. 'For thou art in the presence of the wise and the terrible.' It blinked. 'Any good, these statues?'
'They don't do you justice,' said Teppic, truthfully.
'Do you really think so? People often get the nose wrong,' said the Sphinx. 'My right profile is best, I'm told, and-' It dawned on the Sphinx that it was sidetracking itself. It coughed sternly.
'Beforea noise like an empty lorry reversing in a quarry.
'What goes on four legs in the morning, two legs at noon, and three legs in the evening?' said the Sphinx smugly.
Teppic considered this.
'That's a tough one,' he said, eventually.
'The toughest,' said the Sphinx.
'Um.' you can pass me, O mortal,' it said, 'you must answer my riddle.' 'Why?' said Teppic. 'What?' The Sphinx blinked at him. It hadn't been designed for this sort of thing. 'Why? Why? Because. Er. Because, hang on, yes, because I will bite your head off if you don't. Yes, I think that's it.' 'Right,' said Teppic. 'Let's hear it, then.' The Sphinx cleared its throat with
'Cower, mortal,' said the Sphinx. 'For thou art in the presence of the wise and the terrible.' It blinked. 'Any good, these statues?'
'They don't do you justice,' said Teppic, truthfully.
'Do you really think so? People often get the nose wrong,' said the Sphinx. 'My right profile is best, I'm told, and-' It dawned on the Sphinx that it was sidetracking itself. It coughed sternly.
'Beforea noise like an empty lorry reversing in a quarry.
'What goes on four legs in the morning, two legs at noon, and three legs in the evening?' said the Sphinx smugly.
Teppic considered this.
'That's a tough one,' he said, eventually.
'The toughest,' said the Sphinx.
'Um.' you can pass me, O mortal,' it said, 'you must answer my riddle.' 'Why?' said Teppic. 'What?' The Sphinx blinked at him. It hadn't been designed for this sort of thing. 'Why? Why? Because. Er. Because, hang on, yes, because I will bite your head off if you don't. Yes, I think that's it.' 'Right,' said Teppic. 'Let's hear it, then.' The Sphinx cleared its throat with
Friday, March 20, 2009
Lorenzo Lotto Venus and Cupid
Lorenzo Lotto Venus and CupidJean Fragonard The BathersThomas Gainsborough Mrs SheridanSandro Botticelli Venus and MarsJean Beraud La Rue de la Paix
political expediency and I don't believe the edict is ever rescinded.'
'But she was a woman, though?'
Dios looked shocked. 'Oh no, sire. She is a man. She herself declared this.'
'But look, a chap's aunt-'
'Quite so, sire. I quite understand.'
'Well,like that. She's got a pinny with stitching like that, has our mum,' said Gern conversationally.
'Keep it still, I said.'
'It's got all ducks and hens on it,' Gern supplied helpfully. Dil concentrated on the job in hand. It was good workmanship, he was prepared to admit. The Guild of Embalmers and Allied Trades had awarded him medals for it.
'It must make you feel really proud,' said Gern. thank you,' said Teppic. 'It is a great shame that we have no sisters.' 'Sisters!' 'It does not do to water the divine blood, sire. The sun might not like it. Now this, sire, is the Scapula of Hygiene. Where would you like it put?' King Teppicymon XXVII was watching himself being stuffed. It was just as well he didn't feel hunger these days. Certainly he would never want to eat chicken again. 'Very nice stitching there, master.' 'Just keep your finger still, Gern.' 'My mother does stitching
political expediency and I don't believe the edict is ever rescinded.'
'But she was a woman, though?'
Dios looked shocked. 'Oh no, sire. She is a man. She herself declared this.'
'But look, a chap's aunt-'
'Quite so, sire. I quite understand.'
'Well,like that. She's got a pinny with stitching like that, has our mum,' said Gern conversationally.
'Keep it still, I said.'
'It's got all ducks and hens on it,' Gern supplied helpfully. Dil concentrated on the job in hand. It was good workmanship, he was prepared to admit. The Guild of Embalmers and Allied Trades had awarded him medals for it.
'It must make you feel really proud,' said Gern. thank you,' said Teppic. 'It is a great shame that we have no sisters.' 'Sisters!' 'It does not do to water the divine blood, sire. The sun might not like it. Now this, sire, is the Scapula of Hygiene. Where would you like it put?' King Teppicymon XXVII was watching himself being stuffed. It was just as well he didn't feel hunger these days. Certainly he would never want to eat chicken again. 'Very nice stitching there, master.' 'Just keep your finger still, Gern.' 'My mother does stitching
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Pino DANCING IN BARCELONA
Pino DANCING IN BARCELONAPino close to my heartUnknown Artist Albert Edelfelt VirginieUnknown Artist Albert Edelfelt male nude 1George Stubbs Lion Devouring a Horse
standing stone was back in its normal place, but still poised to run if any auditors came into view.
The witches sat in careful silence. This was not going to rate among the hundred most exciting coven meetings of all time'It says "Viva Verence II Rex". Fancy him being called Rex. I can't say it's a good likeness, mind you. I don't recall him having a handle sticking out of his ear.'
There was another long, terribly polite pause. Then Granny said, 'We were a bit surprised you weren't there, Magrat.'
'We thought you'd be up at the top of the table, kind of thing,' said Nanny. 'We thought you'd have moved in up there.'. If Mussorgsky had seen them, the night on the bare mountain would have been over by teatime.Then Granny Weatherwax said, 'It was a good banquet, I thought.''I was nearly sick,' said Nanny Ogg proudly. 'And my Shirl helped out in the kitchen and brought me home some scraps.''I heard,' said Granny coldly. 'Haifa pig and three bottles of fizzy wine went missing, they say.''It's nice that some people think of the old folk,' said Nanny Ogg, completely unabashed. 'I got a coronation mug, too.' She produced it.
standing stone was back in its normal place, but still poised to run if any auditors came into view.
The witches sat in careful silence. This was not going to rate among the hundred most exciting coven meetings of all time'It says "Viva Verence II Rex". Fancy him being called Rex. I can't say it's a good likeness, mind you. I don't recall him having a handle sticking out of his ear.'
There was another long, terribly polite pause. Then Granny said, 'We were a bit surprised you weren't there, Magrat.'
'We thought you'd be up at the top of the table, kind of thing,' said Nanny. 'We thought you'd have moved in up there.'. If Mussorgsky had seen them, the night on the bare mountain would have been over by teatime.Then Granny Weatherwax said, 'It was a good banquet, I thought.''I was nearly sick,' said Nanny Ogg proudly. 'And my Shirl helped out in the kitchen and brought me home some scraps.''I heard,' said Granny coldly. 'Haifa pig and three bottles of fizzy wine went missing, they say.''It's nice that some people think of the old folk,' said Nanny Ogg, completely unabashed. 'I got a coronation mug, too.' She produced it.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Joaquin Sorolla y Bastida Ninos en el Mar
Joaquin Sorolla y Bastida Ninos en el MarJoaquin Sorolla y Bastida Leaving the BathJoaquin Sorolla y Bastida Children on the BeachJoaquin Sorolla y Bastida Children on the Beach ValenciaJoaquin Sorolla y Bastida Child's Siesta
was silent. He was staring at nothing at all. After a while one hand fumbled in his doublet and brought out a sheaf of paper, and then disappeared in the direction of his belt and produced a small corked ink pot and a bundle of the room.
Around supper Vitoller heard a shouted request for more candles and fresh quills.
Tomjon tried to get an early night, but sleep was murdered by the sound of creativity from the next room. There were mutterings about balconies, and whether the world really needed wave machines. The rest was silence, except for the insistent scratching of quills.
Eventually, Tomjon dreamed.quills.They watched as, without once looking at them, the dwarf smoothed out the paper, opened the ink pot, dipped a quill, held it poised like a hawk waiting for its prey, and then began to write.Vitoller nodded at Tomjon.Walking as quietly as they could, they left the room.Around mid-afternoon they took up a tray of food and a bundle of paper.The tray was still there at teatime. The paper had gone.A few hours later a passing member of the company reported hearing a yell of 'It can't work! It's back to front!' and the sound of something being thrown across
was silent. He was staring at nothing at all. After a while one hand fumbled in his doublet and brought out a sheaf of paper, and then disappeared in the direction of his belt and produced a small corked ink pot and a bundle of the room.
Around supper Vitoller heard a shouted request for more candles and fresh quills.
Tomjon tried to get an early night, but sleep was murdered by the sound of creativity from the next room. There were mutterings about balconies, and whether the world really needed wave machines. The rest was silence, except for the insistent scratching of quills.
Eventually, Tomjon dreamed.quills.They watched as, without once looking at them, the dwarf smoothed out the paper, opened the ink pot, dipped a quill, held it poised like a hawk waiting for its prey, and then began to write.Vitoller nodded at Tomjon.Walking as quietly as they could, they left the room.Around mid-afternoon they took up a tray of food and a bundle of paper.The tray was still there at teatime. The paper had gone.A few hours later a passing member of the company reported hearing a yell of 'It can't work! It's back to front!' and the sound of something being thrown across
Monday, March 16, 2009
Edward Hopper Sunlight in a Cafeteria
Edward Hopper Sunlight in a CafeteriaEdward Hopper Summer InteriorEdward Hopper SailingEdward Hopper Ryder's HouseEdward Hopper Railroad Train
'You could give him boils or something,' said Nanny Ogg. 'Haemorrhoids are good. That's allowed. It won't stop him ruling, it just means he'll have to rule standing up. Always good for a laugh, that. Or piles.'
Granny of saying it,' she said, 'but he's got us beaten.'
'Well, I don't know,' said Nanny. 'Our Jason and a few sharp lads could soon—'
'You saw some of his guards. These aren't the old sort. These are a tough kind.'
'We could give the boys just a bit of help—'
'It wouldn't work. People have to sort this sort of thing out for themselvesWeatherwax said nothing. If fury were heat, her hat would have caught fire.'Mind you, that'd probably make him worse,' said Nanny, running to keep up. 'Same with toothache.' She gave a sideways glance at Granny's twitching features.'You needn't fret,' she said. They didn't do anything much. But thanks, anyway.''I ain't worried about you, Gytha Ogg,' snapped Granny. 'I only come along 'cos Magrat was fretting. What I say is, if a witch can't look after herself, she's got no business calling herself a witch.''Magrat done well with the woodwork, I thought.'Even in the grip of her sullen fury, Granny Weatherwax spared a nod.'She's coming along,' she said. She looked up and down the corridor, and then leaned closer to Nanny Ogg's ear.'I ain't going to give him the pleasure
'You could give him boils or something,' said Nanny Ogg. 'Haemorrhoids are good. That's allowed. It won't stop him ruling, it just means he'll have to rule standing up. Always good for a laugh, that. Or piles.'
Granny of saying it,' she said, 'but he's got us beaten.'
'Well, I don't know,' said Nanny. 'Our Jason and a few sharp lads could soon—'
'You saw some of his guards. These aren't the old sort. These are a tough kind.'
'We could give the boys just a bit of help—'
'It wouldn't work. People have to sort this sort of thing out for themselvesWeatherwax said nothing. If fury were heat, her hat would have caught fire.'Mind you, that'd probably make him worse,' said Nanny, running to keep up. 'Same with toothache.' She gave a sideways glance at Granny's twitching features.'You needn't fret,' she said. They didn't do anything much. But thanks, anyway.''I ain't worried about you, Gytha Ogg,' snapped Granny. 'I only come along 'cos Magrat was fretting. What I say is, if a witch can't look after herself, she's got no business calling herself a witch.''Magrat done well with the woodwork, I thought.'Even in the grip of her sullen fury, Granny Weatherwax spared a nod.'She's coming along,' she said. She looked up and down the corridor, and then leaned closer to Nanny Ogg's ear.'I ain't going to give him the pleasure
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Paul Gauguin Two Tahitian Women
Paul Gauguin Two Tahitian WomenPaul Gauguin The White HorsePaul Gauguin The SiestaPaul Gauguin Tahitian Women On the BeachPaul Gauguin Still Life with Three Puppies
And Granny Weatherwax, striding home alone through the midnight forest, wrapped her shawl around her and considered. It had been a long day, and a trying one. The theatre had been the worst part. All people night, contained strange and terrible things and she was it.
'Let him be whoever he minks he is,' she said. 'That's all anybody could hope for in this world.'
Like most people, witches are unfocused in time. The difference is that they dimly realise it, and make use of it. They cherish the past because part of them is still living there, and they can see the shadows the future casts before it.
Granny could feel the shape of the future, and it had knives in it.
pretending to be other people, things happening that weren't real, bits of countryside you could put your foot through . . . Granny liked to know where she stood, and she wasn't certain she stood for that sort of thing. The world seemed to be changing all the time.It didn't use to change so much. It was bewildering.She walked quickly through the darkness with the frank stride of someone who was at least certain that the forest, on this damp and windy
And Granny Weatherwax, striding home alone through the midnight forest, wrapped her shawl around her and considered. It had been a long day, and a trying one. The theatre had been the worst part. All people night, contained strange and terrible things and she was it.
'Let him be whoever he minks he is,' she said. 'That's all anybody could hope for in this world.'
Like most people, witches are unfocused in time. The difference is that they dimly realise it, and make use of it. They cherish the past because part of them is still living there, and they can see the shadows the future casts before it.
Granny could feel the shape of the future, and it had knives in it.
pretending to be other people, things happening that weren't real, bits of countryside you could put your foot through . . . Granny liked to know where she stood, and she wasn't certain she stood for that sort of thing. The world seemed to be changing all the time.It didn't use to change so much. It was bewildering.She walked quickly through the darkness with the frank stride of someone who was at least certain that the forest, on this damp and windy
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Caravaggio The Raising of Lazarus
Caravaggio The Raising of LazarusCaravaggio Beheading of Saint John the BaptistJohannes Vermeer Woman with a Pearl Necklace
glazed over in a way that was becoming depressingly familiar to Cut-well.
'The Princess Keli,' he said wearily.
'Ah. Yes. Her,' said the Chancellor. 'A portrait of – who you said – in fireworks. Of course, it's probably all pretty simple stuffpast with their heads down and then break into muffled giggles along the corridor. This annoyed Cutwell. Not – he told himself quickly – because of any personal considerations, but because wizards ought to be shown more respect. Besides, some of the maids had a way of looking at him which caused him to think distinctly unwizardly thoughts.
Truly, he thought, the way of enlightenment is like unto half a mile of broken glass to you wizards, but the people like it. Nothing like a good blowout and a blowup and a bit of balcony waving to keep the loyalty muscles in tip-top shape, that's what I always say. See to it. Rockets. With runes on.'An hour ago Cutwell had thumbed through the index of The Monster Fun Grimoire and had cautiously assembled a number of common household ingredients and put a match to them.Funny thing about eyebrows, he mused. You never really noticed them until they'd gone.Red around the eyes, and smelling slightly of smoke, Cutwell ambled towards the royal apartments past bevies of maids engaged in whatever it was maids did, which always seemed to take at least three of them. Whenever they saw Cutwell they would usually go silent, hurry
glazed over in a way that was becoming depressingly familiar to Cut-well.
'The Princess Keli,' he said wearily.
'Ah. Yes. Her,' said the Chancellor. 'A portrait of – who you said – in fireworks. Of course, it's probably all pretty simple stuffpast with their heads down and then break into muffled giggles along the corridor. This annoyed Cutwell. Not – he told himself quickly – because of any personal considerations, but because wizards ought to be shown more respect. Besides, some of the maids had a way of looking at him which caused him to think distinctly unwizardly thoughts.
Truly, he thought, the way of enlightenment is like unto half a mile of broken glass to you wizards, but the people like it. Nothing like a good blowout and a blowup and a bit of balcony waving to keep the loyalty muscles in tip-top shape, that's what I always say. See to it. Rockets. With runes on.'An hour ago Cutwell had thumbed through the index of The Monster Fun Grimoire and had cautiously assembled a number of common household ingredients and put a match to them.Funny thing about eyebrows, he mused. You never really noticed them until they'd gone.Red around the eyes, and smelling slightly of smoke, Cutwell ambled towards the royal apartments past bevies of maids engaged in whatever it was maids did, which always seemed to take at least three of them. Whenever they saw Cutwell they would usually go silent, hurry
Franz Marc Blaues Pferdchen
Franz Marc Blaues PferdchenMarc Chagall The Fall of IcarusMarc Chagall The Birthday
failed to notice her.
Out in the streets it wasn't so creepy, but she still felt oddly naked. It was unnerving, being among people who were going about their own affairs and not bothering to look at one, when one's entire experience of the world hitherto was that it revolved around one. Pedestrians bumped into one and rebounded away, wondering briefly what notice that the knocker winked at her.
She tried again, and thought she heard a distant crash. After some time the door opened a few inches and she caught a glimpse of a round flustered face topped with curly hair. Her right foot surprised her by intelligently inserting itself in the crack.it was they had hit, and one several times had to scurry away out of the path of wagons.The chicken leg hadn't gone far to fill the hole left by the absence of lunch, and she filched a couple of apples from a stall, making a mental note to have the chamberlain find out how much apples cost and send some money down to the stallholder.Dishevelled, rather grubby and smelling slightly of horse dung, she came at last to Cutwell's door. The knocker gave her some trouble. In her experience doors opened for you; there were special people to arrange it.She was so distraught she didn't even
failed to notice her.
Out in the streets it wasn't so creepy, but she still felt oddly naked. It was unnerving, being among people who were going about their own affairs and not bothering to look at one, when one's entire experience of the world hitherto was that it revolved around one. Pedestrians bumped into one and rebounded away, wondering briefly what notice that the knocker winked at her.
She tried again, and thought she heard a distant crash. After some time the door opened a few inches and she caught a glimpse of a round flustered face topped with curly hair. Her right foot surprised her by intelligently inserting itself in the crack.it was they had hit, and one several times had to scurry away out of the path of wagons.The chicken leg hadn't gone far to fill the hole left by the absence of lunch, and she filched a couple of apples from a stall, making a mental note to have the chamberlain find out how much apples cost and send some money down to the stallholder.Dishevelled, rather grubby and smelling slightly of horse dung, she came at last to Cutwell's door. The knocker gave her some trouble. In her experience doors opened for you; there were special people to arrange it.She was so distraught she didn't even
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Thomas Kinkade almost heaven
Thomas Kinkade almost heavenThomas Kinkade A New Day DawningJohn Collier Lilith
always thought it was.'
PEOPLE THINK IT'S IMPORTANT ONLY BECAUSE THEY INVENTED IT, said Death sombrely. Mort considered this rather trite, but decided not to argue.
'What are we they performed were invariably about kings. Kings were always killing one another, or being killed. The plots were quite complicated, involving mistaken identity, poisons, battles, long-lost sons, ghosts, witches and, usually, lots of daggers. Since it was clear that being a king was no picnic it was amazing that half the cast were apparently trying to become hazy, but he imagined that no-one got much sleep.
'I'd quite like to see a real king,' he said. 'They wear crowns all the time, my granny going to do now?' he said.THERE'S A PROMISING WAR IN KLATCHISTAN, said Death. SEVERAL PLAGUE OUTBREAKS. ONE RATHER IMPORTANT ASSASSINATION, IF YOU'D PREFER.'What, a murder?'AYE, A KING.'Oh, kings,' said Mort dismissively. He knew about kings. Once a year a band of strolling players, or at any rate ambling ones, came to Sheepridge and the plays
always thought it was.'
PEOPLE THINK IT'S IMPORTANT ONLY BECAUSE THEY INVENTED IT, said Death sombrely. Mort considered this rather trite, but decided not to argue.
'What are we they performed were invariably about kings. Kings were always killing one another, or being killed. The plots were quite complicated, involving mistaken identity, poisons, battles, long-lost sons, ghosts, witches and, usually, lots of daggers. Since it was clear that being a king was no picnic it was amazing that half the cast were apparently trying to become hazy, but he imagined that no-one got much sleep.
'I'd quite like to see a real king,' he said. 'They wear crowns all the time, my granny going to do now?' he said.THERE'S A PROMISING WAR IN KLATCHISTAN, said Death. SEVERAL PLAGUE OUTBREAKS. ONE RATHER IMPORTANT ASSASSINATION, IF YOU'D PREFER.'What, a murder?'AYE, A KING.'Oh, kings,' said Mort dismissively. He knew about kings. Once a year a band of strolling players, or at any rate ambling ones, came to Sheepridge and the plays
Monday, March 9, 2009
Wassily Kandinsky Dominant Curve
Wassily Kandinsky Dominant CurveWassily Kandinsky Several CirclesWassily Kandinsky Composition VIII
peered through the glass. If she squinted it seemed that the little Disc was granular, as if it was made up of millions of tiny specks. If she looked hard at the specks
"It's just numbers!" she said. "The whole world - it's all made up of numbers . . . ."
"It's not the world, it's an idea of the world," said Simon. "I created it for them. They can't get through to us, do you see, but ideas have got a shape here. Ideas are real!"
GIVE IT TOthat lurked in deep ocean holes and haunted caves, faces that were not human enough to gloat or leer but had all the menace of a suspiciously v-shaped ripple near an incautious bather.
She couldn't trust them. But she had no choice.
Something else was happening, in a place as far away as the thickness of a shadow. US. "But ideas can't hurt anyone!" "I turned things into numbers to understand them, but they just want to control," Simon said bitterly. "They burrowed into my numbers like -" He screamed. GIVE IT TO US OR WE WILL TAKE HIM TO BITS. Esk looked up at the nearest nightmare face. "How do I know I can trust you?" she said. YOU CAN'T TRUST US. BUT YOU HAVE NO CHOICE. Esk looked at the ring of faces that not even a necrophile could love, faces put together from a fishmonger's midden, faces picked randomly from things
peered through the glass. If she squinted it seemed that the little Disc was granular, as if it was made up of millions of tiny specks. If she looked hard at the specks
"It's just numbers!" she said. "The whole world - it's all made up of numbers . . . ."
"It's not the world, it's an idea of the world," said Simon. "I created it for them. They can't get through to us, do you see, but ideas have got a shape here. Ideas are real!"
GIVE IT TOthat lurked in deep ocean holes and haunted caves, faces that were not human enough to gloat or leer but had all the menace of a suspiciously v-shaped ripple near an incautious bather.
She couldn't trust them. But she had no choice.
Something else was happening, in a place as far away as the thickness of a shadow. US. "But ideas can't hurt anyone!" "I turned things into numbers to understand them, but they just want to control," Simon said bitterly. "They burrowed into my numbers like -" He screamed. GIVE IT TO US OR WE WILL TAKE HIM TO BITS. Esk looked up at the nearest nightmare face. "How do I know I can trust you?" she said. YOU CAN'T TRUST US. BUT YOU HAVE NO CHOICE. Esk looked at the ring of faces that not even a necrophile could love, faces put together from a fishmonger's midden, faces picked randomly from things
Thomas Kinkade NASCAR THUNDER
Thomas Kinkade NASCAR THUNDERThomas Kinkade LondonThomas Kinkade Light of Freedom
exactly, but sometimes she felt like a boat herself, drifting on the edge of an infinite rope but always attached to an anchor.
The barges stopped at some of the towns. By tradition only the men went ashore, and only Amschat, wearing his ceremonial Lying hat, spoke to non-Zoons. Esk usually went with him. He tried hinting that she should obey the When a market broker in the walled town of Zemphis offered him a bag of ultramarines in exchange for a hundred fleeces a voice from the level of his pockets said: "They're not ultramarines."
"Listen to the child!" said the broker, grinning. Amschat solemnly held one of the stones to his eye.
"I am listening," he said, "and they do indeed look like ultramarines. They have the glit and shimmy."
Esk shook her head. "They're just spircles," she said. She said it without thinkingunwritten rules of Zoonand stay afloat, but a hint was to Esk what a mosquito bite was to the average rhino because she was already learning that if you ignore the rules people will, half the time, quietly rewrite them so that they don't apply to you. Anyway, it seemed to Amschat that when Esk was with him he always got a very good price. There was something about a small child squinting determinedly at them from behind his legs that made even market-hardened merchants hastily conclude their In fact, it began to worry him.
exactly, but sometimes she felt like a boat herself, drifting on the edge of an infinite rope but always attached to an anchor.
The barges stopped at some of the towns. By tradition only the men went ashore, and only Amschat, wearing his ceremonial Lying hat, spoke to non-Zoons. Esk usually went with him. He tried hinting that she should obey the When a market broker in the walled town of Zemphis offered him a bag of ultramarines in exchange for a hundred fleeces a voice from the level of his pockets said: "They're not ultramarines."
"Listen to the child!" said the broker, grinning. Amschat solemnly held one of the stones to his eye.
"I am listening," he said, "and they do indeed look like ultramarines. They have the glit and shimmy."
Esk shook her head. "They're just spircles," she said. She said it without thinkingunwritten rules of Zoonand stay afloat, but a hint was to Esk what a mosquito bite was to the average rhino because she was already learning that if you ignore the rules people will, half the time, quietly rewrite them so that they don't apply to you. Anyway, it seemed to Amschat that when Esk was with him he always got a very good price. There was something about a small child squinting determinedly at them from behind his legs that made even market-hardened merchants hastily conclude their In fact, it began to worry him.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Thomas Kinkade Clearing Storms
Thomas Kinkade Clearing StormsThomas Kinkade Bridge of FaithThomas Kinkade Autumn Lane
The cold struck like a knife. Frost had put a crust on the snow. She didn't care where she was going, but quiet terror gave her a burning determination to get there as fast as she could.
Inside the wolves in the mountains, because on some nights their howls echoed down from the high Tops, but they seldom came near the village - the modern wolves were the offspring of ancestors that had survived because they had learned that human meat had sharp edges.cottage the crow landed heavily in the fireplace, surrounded by soot and muttering irritably to itself. It hopped into the shadows, and a moment later there was the bang of the latch of the stairway door and the sound of fluttering on the stairs. Esk reached up as high as she could and felt around the tree for the marker. This time she was lucky, but the pattern of dots and grooves told her she was over a mile from the village and had been running in the wrong direction. There was a cheese-rind moon and a sprinkling of stars, small and bright and pitiless. The forest around her was a pattern of black shadows and pale snow and, she was aware, not all the shadows were standing still. Everyone knew there were
The cold struck like a knife. Frost had put a crust on the snow. She didn't care where she was going, but quiet terror gave her a burning determination to get there as fast as she could.
Inside the wolves in the mountains, because on some nights their howls echoed down from the high Tops, but they seldom came near the village - the modern wolves were the offspring of ancestors that had survived because they had learned that human meat had sharp edges.cottage the crow landed heavily in the fireplace, surrounded by soot and muttering irritably to itself. It hopped into the shadows, and a moment later there was the bang of the latch of the stairway door and the sound of fluttering on the stairs. Esk reached up as high as she could and felt around the tree for the marker. This time she was lucky, but the pattern of dots and grooves told her she was over a mile from the village and had been running in the wrong direction. There was a cheese-rind moon and a sprinkling of stars, small and bright and pitiless. The forest around her was a pattern of black shadows and pale snow and, she was aware, not all the shadows were standing still. Everyone knew there were
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Henri Fantin-Latour Still Life With Flowers And Fruit
Henri Fantin-Latour Still Life With Flowers And FruitFilippino Lippi Adoration of the ChildFilippino Lippi Madonna with Child and SaintsLouis Aston Knight A Riverside Cottage
Around noon the following day they rode into a small, mud-walled city surrounded by fields still lush and green. There seemed to be a lot of traffic going the other way, though. Huge carts rumbled past them. Herds of livestock ambled along the crown of the road. Old ladies stomped past carrying entire households and haystacks on their backs.
'Plague?' said Rincewind, stopping a man pushing a handcart full of children.
He shook his head. 'It's the star, friend,' he said. 'Haven't you seen it in the sky?'
'We couldn't help noticing it, yes.'
They say that it'll hit us on Hogswatchnight and the seas will boil and the countries of the Disc will be broken nd 'It's a shuprishe.'
'I could do with a new dress, too,' said Bethan.kings will be brought down and the cities will be as lakes of glass,' said the man. 'I'm off to the mountains.''That'll help, will it?' said Rincewind doubtfully.'No, but the view will be better.'Rincewind rode back to the others.'Everyone's worried about the star,' he said. 'Apparently there's hardly anyone left in the cities, they're all frightened of it.''I don't want to worry anyone,' said Bethan, 'but hasn't it struck you as unseasonably hot?''That's what I said last night,' said Twoflower. 'Very warm, I thought.''I shuspect it'll get a lot hotter,' said Cohen. 'Let'sh get on into the city.'They rode through echoing streets that were practically deserted. Cohen kept peering at merchants' signs until he reined his horse and said, 'Thish ish what I've been looking for. You find a temple and a priesht, I'll join you shortly.''A jeweller?' said Rincewind.
Around noon the following day they rode into a small, mud-walled city surrounded by fields still lush and green. There seemed to be a lot of traffic going the other way, though. Huge carts rumbled past them. Herds of livestock ambled along the crown of the road. Old ladies stomped past carrying entire households and haystacks on their backs.
'Plague?' said Rincewind, stopping a man pushing a handcart full of children.
He shook his head. 'It's the star, friend,' he said. 'Haven't you seen it in the sky?'
'We couldn't help noticing it, yes.'
They say that it'll hit us on Hogswatchnight and the seas will boil and the countries of the Disc will be broken nd 'It's a shuprishe.'
'I could do with a new dress, too,' said Bethan.kings will be brought down and the cities will be as lakes of glass,' said the man. 'I'm off to the mountains.''That'll help, will it?' said Rincewind doubtfully.'No, but the view will be better.'Rincewind rode back to the others.'Everyone's worried about the star,' he said. 'Apparently there's hardly anyone left in the cities, they're all frightened of it.''I don't want to worry anyone,' said Bethan, 'but hasn't it struck you as unseasonably hot?''That's what I said last night,' said Twoflower. 'Very warm, I thought.''I shuspect it'll get a lot hotter,' said Cohen. 'Let'sh get on into the city.'They rode through echoing streets that were practically deserted. Cohen kept peering at merchants' signs until he reined his horse and said, 'Thish ish what I've been looking for. You find a temple and a priesht, I'll join you shortly.''A jeweller?' said Rincewind.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Thomas Moran Zion Valley, South Utah
Thomas Moran Zion Valley, South UtahThomas Moran The Wilds of Lake SuperiorThomas Moran Sunset on the MoorThomas Moran Moonlit Seascape
. . .'
Through the mists of his exhausted mind Rincewind remembered the horrible star they'd seen in the sky. Something had gone wrong with the universe last night.
How had he come to be back on the Disc?
He had a feeling that the answers were somewhere inside his head. And an even more unpleasant feeling began to dawn on .
'Rincewind,' said a voice. Rincewind had never heard a lizard speak, but if one did it would have a voice like that.
'Um,' he said. 'Yes?'
The voice chuckled – a strange sound, rather papery. him that something else was watching the scene below – watching it from behind his eyes.The Spell had crept from its lair deep in the untrodden dirtroads of his mind, and was sitting bold as brass in his forebrain, watching the passing scene and doing the mental equivalent of eating popcorn.He tried to push it back – and the world vanished . . .He was in darkness; a warm, musty darkness, the darkness of the tomb, the velvet blackness of the mummy case. There was a strong smell of old leather and the sourness of ancient paper. The paper rustled.He felt that the darkness was full of unimaginable horrors – and the trouble with unimaginable horrors was that they were only to easy to imagine . .
. . .'
Through the mists of his exhausted mind Rincewind remembered the horrible star they'd seen in the sky. Something had gone wrong with the universe last night.
How had he come to be back on the Disc?
He had a feeling that the answers were somewhere inside his head. And an even more unpleasant feeling began to dawn on .
'Rincewind,' said a voice. Rincewind had never heard a lizard speak, but if one did it would have a voice like that.
'Um,' he said. 'Yes?'
The voice chuckled – a strange sound, rather papery. him that something else was watching the scene below – watching it from behind his eyes.The Spell had crept from its lair deep in the untrodden dirtroads of his mind, and was sitting bold as brass in his forebrain, watching the passing scene and doing the mental equivalent of eating popcorn.He tried to push it back – and the world vanished . . .He was in darkness; a warm, musty darkness, the darkness of the tomb, the velvet blackness of the mummy case. There was a strong smell of old leather and the sourness of ancient paper. The paper rustled.He felt that the darkness was full of unimaginable horrors – and the trouble with unimaginable horrors was that they were only to easy to imagine . .
Monday, March 2, 2009
William Blake The Resurrection
William Blake The ResurrectionWilliam Blake The Great Red Dragon and the Woman Clothed with SunWilliam Blake The Descent of ChristWilliam Blake Los
Ah," he said conversationally. "You are ready, I see."
Ready, said a voice inside Rincewind's head.
The bottle that stunned Garhartra had sunk to the floor his two guests were already pounding across distant flagstones.
Rincewind skidded around a corner and found himself on a balcony that ran around the four sides of a courtyard. Below them, most of the floor of the yard was taken up by an ornamental pond in which a few terrapins sunbathed among the lily leaves.the wizard had flung some eight hours earlier had been hanging in the air, imprisoned by magic in its own personal time-field. But during all those hours the original mana of the spell had been slowly leaking away until the total magical energy was no longer sufficient to hold it against the Universe's own powerful normality field, and when that happened Reality snapped back in a matter of microseconds. The visible sign of this was that the bottle suddenly completed the last part of its parabola and burst against the side of the Guestmaster's head, showering the guards with glass and jellyfish wine.Rincewind grabbed Twoflower's arm, kicked the nearest guard in the groin, and dragged the startled tourist into the corridor. Before the
Ah," he said conversationally. "You are ready, I see."
Ready, said a voice inside Rincewind's head.
The bottle that stunned Garhartra had sunk to the floor his two guests were already pounding across distant flagstones.
Rincewind skidded around a corner and found himself on a balcony that ran around the four sides of a courtyard. Below them, most of the floor of the yard was taken up by an ornamental pond in which a few terrapins sunbathed among the lily leaves.the wizard had flung some eight hours earlier had been hanging in the air, imprisoned by magic in its own personal time-field. But during all those hours the original mana of the spell had been slowly leaking away until the total magical energy was no longer sufficient to hold it against the Universe's own powerful normality field, and when that happened Reality snapped back in a matter of microseconds. The visible sign of this was that the bottle suddenly completed the last part of its parabola and burst against the side of the Guestmaster's head, showering the guards with glass and jellyfish wine.Rincewind grabbed Twoflower's arm, kicked the nearest guard in the groin, and dragged the startled tourist into the corridor. Before the
Sunday, March 1, 2009
William Beard Majestic Stag
William Beard Majestic StagWilliam Beard Dancing BearsAndy Warhol Shot Orange Marilyn 1964Andy Warhol Portrait of Maurice
the corridor. They stopped, openmouthed. Then one remembered himself sufficiently to raise his crossbow and fire.
The dragon's chest heaved. The quarrel exploded into flaming fragments in mid-air. The guards scurried out of sight. A Light filtered through dimly from various shafts and, here and there, bounced off big mirrors that had been mortared into angles of the passagefraction of a second later a wash of flame played over the stones where they had been standing.Twoflower looked up in admiration"Can you fly too?" he said.Of course.Twoflower glanced up and down the corridor, and decided against following the guards. Since he knew himself to be totally lost already, any direction was probably an improvement. He edged past the dragon and hurried away, the huge beast turning with difficulty to follow him.They padded down a series of passages that crisscrossed like a maze. At one point Twoflower thought he heard shouts, a long way behind them but they soon faded away. Sometimes the dark arch of a crumbling doorway loomed past them in the gloom.
the corridor. They stopped, openmouthed. Then one remembered himself sufficiently to raise his crossbow and fire.
The dragon's chest heaved. The quarrel exploded into flaming fragments in mid-air. The guards scurried out of sight. A Light filtered through dimly from various shafts and, here and there, bounced off big mirrors that had been mortared into angles of the passagefraction of a second later a wash of flame played over the stones where they had been standing.Twoflower looked up in admiration"Can you fly too?" he said.Of course.Twoflower glanced up and down the corridor, and decided against following the guards. Since he knew himself to be totally lost already, any direction was probably an improvement. He edged past the dragon and hurried away, the huge beast turning with difficulty to follow him.They padded down a series of passages that crisscrossed like a maze. At one point Twoflower thought he heard shouts, a long way behind them but they soon faded away. Sometimes the dark arch of a crumbling doorway loomed past them in the gloom.
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