Juan Gris The Painter's WindowJuan Gris The Open WindowJuan Gris The Mountain Le CanigouJuan Gris The Guitar 1918Juan Gris Teacups
Ordinary magic just moved things around. It couldn’t create a real thing that’d last for more than a second, because that took a lot of power.
But Holy Wood easily created things over and over again, dozens of times a second. They didn’t have to last for long. They just had to last for long enough.
But you had to work Holy Wood magic by Holy Wood’s rules . . .
He extended a swung up into the saddle as it cantered past, then made it rear impressively so that it pawed the air. He drew a sword which hadn’t been there a moment before.
The sword and the horse flickered almost imperceptibly.
Victor smiled. Light glinted off a tooth. Ting. A glint, but no sound; they hadn’t invented sound, yet.
Believe it. That was the way. Never stop believing. Fool rock‑steady hand towards the dark sky.‘Lights!’There was a sheet of lightning that illuminated the whole city . . .‘Picture box!’Gaffer spun the handle furiously.‘Action!’No‑one saw where the horse came from. It was just there, leaping over the heads of the crowd. It was white, with lots of impressive silver work on the bridle. Victor
Tuesday 31 March 2009
Monday 30 March 2009
Albert Moore Garden
Albert Moore GardenAlbert Moore ApplesMark Rothko Yellow and Gold2Mark Rothko Yellow and BlueMark Rothko Violet Green and Red 1951
Gaspode woke up and quickly hauled himself into what he hoped looked like an alert position.
Someone was shouting, but politely, as if they wanted to be helped but only if it wouldn’t be too much trouble.
He trotted up the steps. The door was ajar. He pushed it open with his head.
Victor was lying on his back, tied to a chair. Gaspode sat down and watched him intently, in case he was about to do ,’ said Gaspode, and grinned.
‘Er, I’m not sure that’s a very good‑‘
‘Don’t worry. I’ll be right back,’ said Gaspode, and padded out.
‘It might be a bit difficult to explain‑‘ Victor called after him, but the dog was down the stairs and ambling along through the maze of backlots and alleys to the rear of Century of the Fruitbat.
He shuffled up to the high fence. There was the gentle clink of a something interesting.‘All right, are we?’ he said, after a while.‘Don’t just sit there, idiot! Untie these knots,’ said Victor.‘Idiot I may be, but tied up I ain’t,’ said Gaspode evenly. ‘Got the jump on you, did she?’‘I must have nodded off for a moment,.’ said Victor.‘Long enough for her to get up, rip up a sheet, and tie you to the chair,’ said Gaspode.‘Yes, all right, all right. Can’t you gnaw through it, or something?’‘With these teeth? I could fetch someone, though
Gaspode woke up and quickly hauled himself into what he hoped looked like an alert position.
Someone was shouting, but politely, as if they wanted to be helped but only if it wouldn’t be too much trouble.
He trotted up the steps. The door was ajar. He pushed it open with his head.
Victor was lying on his back, tied to a chair. Gaspode sat down and watched him intently, in case he was about to do ,’ said Gaspode, and grinned.
‘Er, I’m not sure that’s a very good‑‘
‘Don’t worry. I’ll be right back,’ said Gaspode, and padded out.
‘It might be a bit difficult to explain‑‘ Victor called after him, but the dog was down the stairs and ambling along through the maze of backlots and alleys to the rear of Century of the Fruitbat.
He shuffled up to the high fence. There was the gentle clink of a something interesting.‘All right, are we?’ he said, after a while.‘Don’t just sit there, idiot! Untie these knots,’ said Victor.‘Idiot I may be, but tied up I ain’t,’ said Gaspode evenly. ‘Got the jump on you, did she?’‘I must have nodded off for a moment,.’ said Victor.‘Long enough for her to get up, rip up a sheet, and tie you to the chair,’ said Gaspode.‘Yes, all right, all right. Can’t you gnaw through it, or something?’‘With these teeth? I could fetch someone, though
Friday 27 March 2009
Douglas Hofmann midnight blue
Douglas Hofmann midnight blueJose Royo PrimaveraPino PurityPablo Picasso Three Women at the SpringPablo Picasso Three Dancers
he looked down at the two severed ends.
Breaks in films weren’t unusual. Bezam had spent many a flustered few minutes feverishly cutting and pasting while the muttered, taking the lid off the glue pot. ‘It just shows a lot of rocks.’
Victor and Gaspode stood among the sand dunes near the beach.
‘That’s where the driftwood but is,’ said Victor, pointing, ‘and then if you look hard you can see there’s a sort of road pointing straight towards the hill. But there’s nothing audience cheerfully stamped its feet and high-spiritedly threw peanuts, knives and double-headed axes at the screen. He let the coils fall around him and reached for the scissors and glue. At least - he found, after holding the two ends up to the lantern - the Librarian hadn’t taken a very interesting bit. Odd, that. Bezam wouldn’t have put it past the ape to have taken a bit where the girl was definitely showing too much chest, or one of the fight scenes. But all he’d wanted was a piece that showed the Sons galloping down from their mountain fastness, in single file, on identical camels. ‘Dunno what he wanted that for,’ he
he looked down at the two severed ends.
Breaks in films weren’t unusual. Bezam had spent many a flustered few minutes feverishly cutting and pasting while the muttered, taking the lid off the glue pot. ‘It just shows a lot of rocks.’
Victor and Gaspode stood among the sand dunes near the beach.
‘That’s where the driftwood but is,’ said Victor, pointing, ‘and then if you look hard you can see there’s a sort of road pointing straight towards the hill. But there’s nothing audience cheerfully stamped its feet and high-spiritedly threw peanuts, knives and double-headed axes at the screen. He let the coils fall around him and reached for the scissors and glue. At least - he found, after holding the two ends up to the lantern - the Librarian hadn’t taken a very interesting bit. Odd, that. Bezam wouldn’t have put it past the ape to have taken a bit where the girl was definitely showing too much chest, or one of the fight scenes. But all he’d wanted was a piece that showed the Sons galloping down from their mountain fastness, in single file, on identical camels. ‘Dunno what he wanted that for,’ he
Thursday 26 March 2009
William Bouguereau The Rapture of Psyche
William Bouguereau The Rapture of PsycheWilliam Bouguereau Cupid and Psyche as ChildrenWilliam Bouguereau Charity
Thomas Kinkade Pinocchio Wishes Upon a StarCao Yong Catalina
thought I might sleep on the beach,’ said Victor. ‘It’s warm enough, after all. I think I really could do with a good rest. Good night.’
He tottered off in that direction.
The sun was
It was two hours after, midnight.
It had them now, and poured joyfully out of the hill, poured its glitter into the world.
Holy Wood dreams . . .
It dreams for everyone. setting, and a wind off the sea had cooled things a little. Around the darkening bulk of the hill the lights of Holy Wood were being lit. Holy Wood only relaxed in the darkness. When your raw material is daylight, you don’t waste it. It was pleasant enough on the beach. No-one much went there. The driftwood, cracked and salt-crusted, was no good for building. It was stacked in a long white row on the tide line. Victor pulled together enough to make a fire, and lay back and watched the surf. From the top of the next dune, hidden behind a dry clump of grass, Gaspode the Wonder Dog watched him thoughtfully.
Thomas Kinkade Pinocchio Wishes Upon a StarCao Yong Catalina
thought I might sleep on the beach,’ said Victor. ‘It’s warm enough, after all. I think I really could do with a good rest. Good night.’
He tottered off in that direction.
The sun was
It was two hours after, midnight.
It had them now, and poured joyfully out of the hill, poured its glitter into the world.
Holy Wood dreams . . .
It dreams for everyone. setting, and a wind off the sea had cooled things a little. Around the darkening bulk of the hill the lights of Holy Wood were being lit. Holy Wood only relaxed in the darkness. When your raw material is daylight, you don’t waste it. It was pleasant enough on the beach. No-one much went there. The driftwood, cracked and salt-crusted, was no good for building. It was stacked in a long white row on the tide line. Victor pulled together enough to make a fire, and lay back and watched the surf. From the top of the next dune, hidden behind a dry clump of grass, Gaspode the Wonder Dog watched him thoughtfully.
Wednesday 25 March 2009
Mark Rothko White over Red
Mark Rothko White over RedPaul Klee Red BridgePaul Klee Red And White DomesPaul Klee Fire in the EveningPaul Klee Farbtafel
was after this,’ said the man, patting the package under his arm. It rang like a gong. ‘Wouldn’t have done him any good, though.’
‘Not worth anything?’ said Victor.
‘Priceless.’
‘That’s all right, then,’ said Victor.
The man ’ he said. ‘Moving pictures?’
‘Yes.’
‘Everyone wants to be in moving pictures!’
‘No, thanks,’ said Victor, politely. ‘I’m sure it’s a worthwhile job, but moving pictures doesn’t sound very interesting to me.’ gave up trying to reach across both of Victor’s shoulders, which were quite broad, and settled for just one of them. ‘But a lot of people would be disappointed,’ he said. ‘Now, look. You stand well. Good profile. Listen, lad, how would you like to be in moving pictures?’ ‘Er,’ said Victor. ‘No. I don’t think so.’ The man gaped at him. ‘You did hear what I said, didn’t you?
‘I’m talking about moving pictures!’
‘Yes,’ said Victor mildly. ‘I heard you.’
was after this,’ said the man, patting the package under his arm. It rang like a gong. ‘Wouldn’t have done him any good, though.’
‘Not worth anything?’ said Victor.
‘Priceless.’
‘That’s all right, then,’ said Victor.
The man ’ he said. ‘Moving pictures?’
‘Yes.’
‘Everyone wants to be in moving pictures!’
‘No, thanks,’ said Victor, politely. ‘I’m sure it’s a worthwhile job, but moving pictures doesn’t sound very interesting to me.’ gave up trying to reach across both of Victor’s shoulders, which were quite broad, and settled for just one of them. ‘But a lot of people would be disappointed,’ he said. ‘Now, look. You stand well. Good profile. Listen, lad, how would you like to be in moving pictures?’ ‘Er,’ said Victor. ‘No. I don’t think so.’ The man gaped at him. ‘You did hear what I said, didn’t you?
‘I’m talking about moving pictures!’
‘Yes,’ said Victor mildly. ‘I heard you.’
Monday 23 March 2009
Pierre Auguste Renoir The Umbrellas
Pierre Auguste Renoir The UmbrellasPierre Auguste Renoir Les baigneusesPierre Auguste Renoir By the SeashoreThomas Kinkade Victorian AutumnThomas Kinkade The Night Before Christmas
You Bastard chewed happily. Teppic had tethered him too near an olive tree, which was getting a terminal pruning. Sometimes the camel would stop, gaze up briefly at the seagulls that circled everywhere above Ephebe city, and subject them to a short, deadly burst of olive stones.
He was turning a hint in fact, because Xeno was already on his second amphora. This was the kind of place where things rolled up their sleeves and started.
'But I still don't understand about the tortoise,' he said, with some difficulty. He'd just taken his first mouthful of Ephebian wine, and it had apparently varnished the back of his throat.over in his mind an interesting new concept in Thau-dimensional physics which unified time, space, magnetism, gravity and, for some reason, broccoli. Periodically he would make noises like distant quarry blasting, but which merely indicated that all stomachs were functioning perfectly. Ptraci sat under the tree, feeding the tortoise on vine leaves. Heat crackled off the white walls of the tavern but, Teppic thought, how different it was from the Old Kingdom. There even the heat was old; the air was musty and lifeless, it pressed like a vice, you felt it was made of boiled centuries. Here it was leavened by the breeze from the sea. It was edged with salt crystals. It carried exciting hints of wine; more than
You Bastard chewed happily. Teppic had tethered him too near an olive tree, which was getting a terminal pruning. Sometimes the camel would stop, gaze up briefly at the seagulls that circled everywhere above Ephebe city, and subject them to a short, deadly burst of olive stones.
He was turning a hint in fact, because Xeno was already on his second amphora. This was the kind of place where things rolled up their sleeves and started.
'But I still don't understand about the tortoise,' he said, with some difficulty. He'd just taken his first mouthful of Ephebian wine, and it had apparently varnished the back of his throat.over in his mind an interesting new concept in Thau-dimensional physics which unified time, space, magnetism, gravity and, for some reason, broccoli. Periodically he would make noises like distant quarry blasting, but which merely indicated that all stomachs were functioning perfectly. Ptraci sat under the tree, feeding the tortoise on vine leaves. Heat crackled off the white walls of the tavern but, Teppic thought, how different it was from the Old Kingdom. There even the heat was old; the air was musty and lifeless, it pressed like a vice, you felt it was made of boiled centuries. Here it was leavened by the breeze from the sea. It was edged with salt crystals. It carried exciting hints of wine; more than
Friday 20 March 2009
Jack Vettriano Heartbreak Hotel
Jack Vettriano Heartbreak HotelJack Vettriano Good Time GirlsJack Vettriano Good Days' SunshineJack Vettriano Girls' NightJack Vettriano Ghosts From The Past
'Garn! Pious little bastard!'
Arthur dropped the knife and burst into tears. Chidder sat up in bed.
'That was you, Cheesewright!' he said. 'I saw you!' Cheesewright, a skinny young man with red hair and a face that he said, gruffly.
'But - but all the runes have been scuffed,' said Arthur. 'It's all too late now! And that means the Great Om will come in the night and wind out my entrails on a stick!'
'Does it?'
'And suck out my eyes, my mother said!'was one large freckle, glared at him. 'Well, it's too much,' he said. 'A fellow can't sleep with all this religion going on. I mean, only little kids say their prayers at bedtime these days, we're supposed to be learning to be assassins-' 'You can jolly well shut up, Cheesewright,' shouted Chidder. 'It'd be a better world if more people said their prayers, you know. I know I don't say mine as often as I should-' A pillow cut him off in mid-sentence. He bounded out of bed and vaulted at the red-haired boy, fists flailing. As the rest of the dormitory gathered around the scuffling pair Teppic slid out of bed and padded over to Arthur, who was sitting on the edge of his bed and sobbing. He patted him uncertainly on the shoulder, on the basis that this sort of thing was supposed to reassure people. 'I shouldn't cry about it, youngster,'
'Garn! Pious little bastard!'
Arthur dropped the knife and burst into tears. Chidder sat up in bed.
'That was you, Cheesewright!' he said. 'I saw you!' Cheesewright, a skinny young man with red hair and a face that he said, gruffly.
'But - but all the runes have been scuffed,' said Arthur. 'It's all too late now! And that means the Great Om will come in the night and wind out my entrails on a stick!'
'Does it?'
'And suck out my eyes, my mother said!'was one large freckle, glared at him. 'Well, it's too much,' he said. 'A fellow can't sleep with all this religion going on. I mean, only little kids say their prayers at bedtime these days, we're supposed to be learning to be assassins-' 'You can jolly well shut up, Cheesewright,' shouted Chidder. 'It'd be a better world if more people said their prayers, you know. I know I don't say mine as often as I should-' A pillow cut him off in mid-sentence. He bounded out of bed and vaulted at the red-haired boy, fists flailing. As the rest of the dormitory gathered around the scuffling pair Teppic slid out of bed and padded over to Arthur, who was sitting on the edge of his bed and sobbing. He patted him uncertainly on the shoulder, on the basis that this sort of thing was supposed to reassure people. 'I shouldn't cry about it, youngster,'
Thursday 19 March 2009
Edward Hopper Hills South Truro
Edward Hopper Hills South TruroEdward Hopper High RoadEdward Hopper First Row OrchestraEdward Hopper El PalacioEdward Hopper Dawn In Pennsylvania
sat on either side of the table in polite and prickly silence. Finally Nanny Ogg said, 'She done it up nice, hasn't she? Flowers and everything. What are them things on the walls?'
'Sigils,' said Granny sourly. 'Or some such.'
'Fancy,' said Nanny Ogg, politelysight of the mirror over the mantelpiece and looked down at the crown. It was tempting. It was practically begging her to try it for size. Well, and why not? She made sure that the others weren't around and then, in one movement, whipped off her hat and placed the crown on her head.
It seemed to fit. Granny drew herself up proudly, and waved a hand imperiously in the general direction of the hearth.' said Granny, her expression suddenly curiously wooden. 'What's Gytha doing?'
'She's giving the baby a wash in the sink,' said Magrat vaguely. 'How can we hide something like this? What'd happen if we buried it really maysherestinpeace, she used to take me over to Razorback or into Lancre whenever the strolling players were in town. She was very keen on the theatre. They've got more crowns than you can shake a stick at although, mind—' she paused – 'Goodie did say they're made of tin and paper and stuff. And just glass for the jewels. But they look more realler than this one
sat on either side of the table in polite and prickly silence. Finally Nanny Ogg said, 'She done it up nice, hasn't she? Flowers and everything. What are them things on the walls?'
'Sigils,' said Granny sourly. 'Or some such.'
'Fancy,' said Nanny Ogg, politelysight of the mirror over the mantelpiece and looked down at the crown. It was tempting. It was practically begging her to try it for size. Well, and why not? She made sure that the others weren't around and then, in one movement, whipped off her hat and placed the crown on her head.
It seemed to fit. Granny drew herself up proudly, and waved a hand imperiously in the general direction of the hearth.' said Granny, her expression suddenly curiously wooden. 'What's Gytha doing?'
'She's giving the baby a wash in the sink,' said Magrat vaguely. 'How can we hide something like this? What'd happen if we buried it really maysherestinpeace, she used to take me over to Razorback or into Lancre whenever the strolling players were in town. She was very keen on the theatre. They've got more crowns than you can shake a stick at although, mind—' she paused – 'Goodie did say they're made of tin and paper and stuff. And just glass for the jewels. But they look more realler than this one
Tuesday 17 March 2009
Cassius Marcellus Coolidge Waterloo
Cassius Marcellus Coolidge WaterlooPino Morning BreezePino First GlanceEdvard Munch The Girls on the BridgeMartin Johnson Heade Rio de Janeiro Bay
Granny clapped her hands together in a businesslike fashion.
'Quite right,' she said. 'Provided he looks like winning.'
They had been meeting at Nanny Ogg's cottage. Magrat made an excuse to tarry after Granny left, around dawn, allegedly to help Nanny with tidying up.
'Whatever . It's only fair.'
'But only last week you were saying—' Magrat stopped, shocked at this display of pragmatism.
'A week is a long time in magic,' said Nanny. 'Fifteen years, for one thing. Anyway, Esme is determined and I'm in no mood to stop her.'happened to not meddling?' she said.'What do you mean?''You know, Nanny.''It's not proper meddling,' said Nanny awkwardly. 'Just helping matters along.''Surely you can't really think that!'Nanny sat down and fidgeted with a cushion.'Well, see, all this not meddling business is fine in the normal course of things,' she said. 'Not meddling is easy when you don't have to. And then I've got the family to think about. Our Jason's been in a couple of fights because of what people have been saying. Our Shawn was thrown out of the army. The way I see it, when we get the new king in, he should owe us a few favours
Granny clapped her hands together in a businesslike fashion.
'Quite right,' she said. 'Provided he looks like winning.'
They had been meeting at Nanny Ogg's cottage. Magrat made an excuse to tarry after Granny left, around dawn, allegedly to help Nanny with tidying up.
'Whatever . It's only fair.'
'But only last week you were saying—' Magrat stopped, shocked at this display of pragmatism.
'A week is a long time in magic,' said Nanny. 'Fifteen years, for one thing. Anyway, Esme is determined and I'm in no mood to stop her.'happened to not meddling?' she said.'What do you mean?''You know, Nanny.''It's not proper meddling,' said Nanny awkwardly. 'Just helping matters along.''Surely you can't really think that!'Nanny sat down and fidgeted with a cushion.'Well, see, all this not meddling business is fine in the normal course of things,' she said. 'Not meddling is easy when you don't have to. And then I've got the family to think about. Our Jason's been in a couple of fights because of what people have been saying. Our Shawn was thrown out of the army. The way I see it, when we get the new king in, he should owe us a few favours
Monday 16 March 2009
Paul Cezanne Still Life with a Skull
Paul Cezanne Still Life with a SkullPaul Cezanne Jas de Bouffan the PoolPaul Cezanne House of Pere LacroixPaul Cezanne Flowers in a Blue VasePaul Cezanne Five Bathers
'Reality is only weak words, you say. Therefore, words are reality. But how can words become history?'
'It was a very good play, the play that I saw,' said Felmet dreamily. 'There were fights, and no-one really died. Some very good speeches, I thought.'
There was another sandpapery sound from the duchess.
'Fool?' she said.
'Lady?'
'Can you storms of the past – the Great Gale of 1789, for example, or Hurricane Zelda and Her Amazing Raining Frogs – had gone through this sort of thing at some stage in their career. It was just part of the great tradition of the weather.write a play? A play that will go around the world, a play that will be remembered long after rumour has died?''No, lady. It is a special talent.''But can you find someone who has it?''There are such people, lady.''Find one,' murmured the duke. 'Find the best. Find the best. The truth will out. Find one.'The storm was resting. It didn't want to be, but it was. It had spent a fortnight understudying a famous anticyclone over the Circle Sea, turning up every day, hanging around in the cold front, grateful for a chance to uproot the occasional tree or whirl a farmhouse to any available emerald city of its choice. But the big break in the weather had never come.It consoled itself with the thought that even the really great
'Reality is only weak words, you say. Therefore, words are reality. But how can words become history?'
'It was a very good play, the play that I saw,' said Felmet dreamily. 'There were fights, and no-one really died. Some very good speeches, I thought.'
There was another sandpapery sound from the duchess.
'Fool?' she said.
'Lady?'
'Can you storms of the past – the Great Gale of 1789, for example, or Hurricane Zelda and Her Amazing Raining Frogs – had gone through this sort of thing at some stage in their career. It was just part of the great tradition of the weather.write a play? A play that will go around the world, a play that will be remembered long after rumour has died?''No, lady. It is a special talent.''But can you find someone who has it?''There are such people, lady.''Find one,' murmured the duke. 'Find the best. Find the best. The truth will out. Find one.'The storm was resting. It didn't want to be, but it was. It had spent a fortnight understudying a famous anticyclone over the Circle Sea, turning up every day, hanging around in the cold front, grateful for a chance to uproot the occasional tree or whirl a farmhouse to any available emerald city of its choice. But the big break in the weather had never come.It consoled itself with the thought that even the really great
Sunday 15 March 2009
Johannes Vermeer The Concert
Johannes Vermeer The ConcertJohannes Vermeer Girl Reading a Letter at an Open WindowGustave Courbet Plage de NormandieThomas Kinkade Town SquareThomas Kinkade PARIS EIFFEL TOWER
'Yes, well,' said Magrat doubtfully. She rummaged in her bag. 'Anyway, if we're going to start, we'd better light the candles.'
The senior witches exchanged a resigned glance.
'But we got this lovely new lamp our Tracie sent me,' said Nanny Ogg innocently. 'And I was going to poke up the fire a bit.'
'I have me we was still a coven,' sniffed Granny Weatherwax. 'Anyway, there's no-one else this side of the mountain, excepting old Gammer Dismass, and she doesn't get out these days.'
'But a lot of young girls in my village . . .' said Magrat. 'You know. They could excellent night vision, Magrat,' said Granny sternly. 'And you've been reading them funny books. Grimmers.''Grimoires—''You ain't going to draw on the floor again, neither,' warned Nanny Ogg. 'It took our Dreen days to clean up all those wossnames last time—''Runes,' said Magrat. There was a look of pleading in her eyes. 'Look, just one candle?''All right,' said Nanny Ogg, relenting a bit. 'If it makes you feel any better. Just the one, mind. And a decent white one. Nothing fancy.'Magrat sighed. It probably wasn't a good idea to bring out the rest of the contents of her bag.'We ought to get a few more here,' she said sadly. 'It's not right, a coven of three.''I didn't know we was still a coven. No-one told
'Yes, well,' said Magrat doubtfully. She rummaged in her bag. 'Anyway, if we're going to start, we'd better light the candles.'
The senior witches exchanged a resigned glance.
'But we got this lovely new lamp our Tracie sent me,' said Nanny Ogg innocently. 'And I was going to poke up the fire a bit.'
'I have me we was still a coven,' sniffed Granny Weatherwax. 'Anyway, there's no-one else this side of the mountain, excepting old Gammer Dismass, and she doesn't get out these days.'
'But a lot of young girls in my village . . .' said Magrat. 'You know. They could excellent night vision, Magrat,' said Granny sternly. 'And you've been reading them funny books. Grimmers.''Grimoires—''You ain't going to draw on the floor again, neither,' warned Nanny Ogg. 'It took our Dreen days to clean up all those wossnames last time—''Runes,' said Magrat. There was a look of pleading in her eyes. 'Look, just one candle?''All right,' said Nanny Ogg, relenting a bit. 'If it makes you feel any better. Just the one, mind. And a decent white one. Nothing fancy.'Magrat sighed. It probably wasn't a good idea to bring out the rest of the contents of her bag.'We ought to get a few more here,' she said sadly. 'It's not right, a coven of three.''I didn't know we was still a coven. No-one told
Friday 13 March 2009
Thomas Moran Sunset on the Moor
Thomas Moran Sunset on the MoorThomas Moran Moonlit SeascapeThomas Moran Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone
unsuccessful effort to look presentable. It wasn't easy. They had been snatched from their workrooms, or a postprandial brandy in front of a roaring fire, or quiet contemplation under a handkerchief in a comfy chair somewherethe big double doors as if they were about to explode, which shows how prescient they were, because they exploded. Matchstick-sized bits of oak rained down among them and a small thin figure stood outlined against the light. It held a smoking staff in one hand. The other held a small yellow toad.
'Rincewind!' bawled Albert.
'Sir!', and all of them were feeling extremely apprehensive and rather bewildered. They kept glancing at the empty pedestal.Only one creature could have duplicated the expressions on their faces, and that would be a pigeon who has heard not only that Lord Nelson has got down off his column but has also been seen buying a 12-bore repeater and a box of cartridges.'He's coming up the corridor!' shouted Rincewind, and dived behind a pillar.The assembled mages watched
unsuccessful effort to look presentable. It wasn't easy. They had been snatched from their workrooms, or a postprandial brandy in front of a roaring fire, or quiet contemplation under a handkerchief in a comfy chair somewherethe big double doors as if they were about to explode, which shows how prescient they were, because they exploded. Matchstick-sized bits of oak rained down among them and a small thin figure stood outlined against the light. It held a smoking staff in one hand. The other held a small yellow toad.
'Rincewind!' bawled Albert.
'Sir!', and all of them were feeling extremely apprehensive and rather bewildered. They kept glancing at the empty pedestal.Only one creature could have duplicated the expressions on their faces, and that would be a pigeon who has heard not only that Lord Nelson has got down off his column but has also been seen buying a 12-bore repeater and a box of cartridges.'He's coming up the corridor!' shouted Rincewind, and dived behind a pillar.The assembled mages watched
Thursday 12 March 2009
Francois Boucher Portrait of Marquise de Pompadour
Francois Boucher Portrait of Marquise de PompadourFrancois Boucher Diana Resting after her BathJohannes Vermeer The Love letter
never feels anything. I don't mean that nastily, you understand. It's just that he's got nothing to feel with, no whatd'youcallits, no glands. He probably thought sorry for me.'
She turned her pale round face towards Mort.
'I won't hear a word against him. He tries to do his best. It's just that he's always got so much to think about.'
'My father be a federation and the books say there'll be a hundred years of peace and plenty. I mean, you'd think there'd be a reign of terror or something, but apparently history needs this kind of person sometimes and the princess would just be another monarch. I mean, not bad, quite good really, but just not right and now it's not going to happen and history is flapping around loose and it's all my fault.'
He subsided, anxiously awaiting her reply.
'You were right, you know.'was a bit like that. Is, I mean.''I expect he's got glands, though.''I imagine he has,' said Mort, shifting uneasily. 'Its not something I've ever really thought about, glands.'They stared side by side at the trout. The trout stared back.'I've just upset the entire history of the future,' said Mort.'Yes?''You see, when he tried to kill her I killed him, but the thing is, according to the history she should have died and the duke would be king, but the worst bit, the worst bit is that although he's absolutely rotten to the core he'd unite the cities and eventually they'll
never feels anything. I don't mean that nastily, you understand. It's just that he's got nothing to feel with, no whatd'youcallits, no glands. He probably thought sorry for me.'
She turned her pale round face towards Mort.
'I won't hear a word against him. He tries to do his best. It's just that he's always got so much to think about.'
'My father be a federation and the books say there'll be a hundred years of peace and plenty. I mean, you'd think there'd be a reign of terror or something, but apparently history needs this kind of person sometimes and the princess would just be another monarch. I mean, not bad, quite good really, but just not right and now it's not going to happen and history is flapping around loose and it's all my fault.'
He subsided, anxiously awaiting her reply.
'You were right, you know.'was a bit like that. Is, I mean.''I expect he's got glands, though.''I imagine he has,' said Mort, shifting uneasily. 'Its not something I've ever really thought about, glands.'They stared side by side at the trout. The trout stared back.'I've just upset the entire history of the future,' said Mort.'Yes?''You see, when he tried to kill her I killed him, but the thing is, according to the history she should have died and the duke would be king, but the worst bit, the worst bit is that although he's absolutely rotten to the core he'd unite the cities and eventually they'll
Wednesday 11 March 2009
Pierre Auguste Renoir La Loge
Pierre Auguste Renoir La LogeEdward Hopper GasEdward Hopper Room in Brooklyn
At that moment the king collapsed, growing smaller and smaller in the air as the field finally collapsed into a tiny, brilliant pinpoint. It happened so quickly that Mort almost missed it. From ghost to mote in half a second, with a faint sigh.
Death liked style.
They were on the roof before he spoke again.
You TRIED TO WARN HIM, he said, removing Binky's nosebag.
'Yes, sir. Sorry.'
YOU CANNOT INTERFERE WITH FATE. WHO ARE YOU TO JUDGE WHO SHOULD LIVE AND WHO SHOULD DIE?
Death watched Mort's expression carefully.gently caught the glittering thing and stowed it away somewhere under his robe.'What's happened to him?' said Mort.ONLY HE KNOWS, said Death. COME.'My granny says that dying is like going to sleep,' Mort added, a shade hopefully.I WOULDN'T KNOW. I HAVE DONE NEITHER.Mort took a last look along the corridor. The big doors had been flung back and the court was spilling out. Two older women were endeavouring to comfort the princess, but she was striding ahead of them so that they bounced along behind her like a couple of fussy balloons. They disappeared up another corridor.ALREADY A QUEEN, said Death, approvingly. Death
At that moment the king collapsed, growing smaller and smaller in the air as the field finally collapsed into a tiny, brilliant pinpoint. It happened so quickly that Mort almost missed it. From ghost to mote in half a second, with a faint sigh.
Death liked style.
They were on the roof before he spoke again.
You TRIED TO WARN HIM, he said, removing Binky's nosebag.
'Yes, sir. Sorry.'
YOU CANNOT INTERFERE WITH FATE. WHO ARE YOU TO JUDGE WHO SHOULD LIVE AND WHO SHOULD DIE?
Death watched Mort's expression carefully.gently caught the glittering thing and stowed it away somewhere under his robe.'What's happened to him?' said Mort.ONLY HE KNOWS, said Death. COME.'My granny says that dying is like going to sleep,' Mort added, a shade hopefully.I WOULDN'T KNOW. I HAVE DONE NEITHER.Mort took a last look along the corridor. The big doors had been flung back and the court was spilling out. Two older women were endeavouring to comfort the princess, but she was striding ahead of them so that they bounced along behind her like a couple of fussy balloons. They disappeared up another corridor.ALREADY A QUEEN, said Death, approvingly. Death
Monday 9 March 2009
Andy Warhol Camouflage green yellow white
Andy Warhol Camouflage green yellow whiteAndy Warhol Brooklyn BridgeAndy Warhol Banana
There's nothing wrong with this broomstick that you losing a few stone wouldn't cure," snapped Granny. "Or would you rather get off and walk?"
"Apart from the fact that half the time my feet are touching the ground anyway," said Cutangle. "I wouldn't want to embarrass you. If someone had asked me to list all the perils of flying, you know, it would never have occurred to me to include having one's legs whipped to death by tall bracken."
"Are you smoking?" said Granny, staring grimly ahead. "Something's burning."
"It was just to calm my nerves what with all this headlong plunging through the air, madam."
"Well, put "Nevertheless," said Granny thoughtfully, "I think that, on the whole, I would prefer you to move your hands." it out this minute. And hold on." The broomstick lurched upwards and increased its speed to that of a geriatric jogger. "Mr Wizard." "Hallo?" "When I said hold on -" "Yes?" "I didn't mean there." There was a pause. "Oh. Yes. I see. I'm terribly sorry." "That's all right." "My memory isn't what it was . . . I assure you . . . no offence meant." "None taken." They flew in silence for a moment.
There's nothing wrong with this broomstick that you losing a few stone wouldn't cure," snapped Granny. "Or would you rather get off and walk?"
"Apart from the fact that half the time my feet are touching the ground anyway," said Cutangle. "I wouldn't want to embarrass you. If someone had asked me to list all the perils of flying, you know, it would never have occurred to me to include having one's legs whipped to death by tall bracken."
"Are you smoking?" said Granny, staring grimly ahead. "Something's burning."
"It was just to calm my nerves what with all this headlong plunging through the air, madam."
"Well, put "Nevertheless," said Granny thoughtfully, "I think that, on the whole, I would prefer you to move your hands." it out this minute. And hold on." The broomstick lurched upwards and increased its speed to that of a geriatric jogger. "Mr Wizard." "Hallo?" "When I said hold on -" "Yes?" "I didn't mean there." There was a pause. "Oh. Yes. I see. I'm terribly sorry." "That's all right." "My memory isn't what it was . . . I assure you . . . no offence meant." "None taken." They flew in silence for a moment.
Piet Mondrian Composition 2
Piet Mondrian Composition 2Steve Thoms PoppiesEdvard Munch Puberty 1894]
Weatherwax approved of night on general principles, she certainly didn't hold with promiscuous candlelight - if she had any reading to do after dark she generally persuaded the owl to come and sit on the back of her chair, and read Cautiously, aware that everyone in the inn was looking at him and grinning, he pulled himself across the bar top until he could see down. Esk stared up at him. Look 'em right in the eye, Granny had always said: focus your power on 'em, stare 'em out, no one can outstare a witch, 'cept a goat, of course.
The landlord, whose name was Skiller, found himself looking directly down at a small child who seemed to be squinting. through its eyes. So Esk expected to go to bed around sunset, and that was long past. There was a doorway ahead of her that looked friendly. Cheerful sounds were sliding out on the yellow light, and pooling on the cobbles. With the staff still radiating random magic like a demon lighthouse she headed for it, weary but determined. The landlord of The Fiddler's Riddle considered himself to be a man of the world, and this was right, because he was too stupid to be really cruel, and too lazy to be really mean and although his body had been around quite a lot his mind had never gone further than the inside of his own head. He wasn't used to being addressed by sticks. Especially when they spoke in a small piping voice, and asked for goat's milk.
Weatherwax approved of night on general principles, she certainly didn't hold with promiscuous candlelight - if she had any reading to do after dark she generally persuaded the owl to come and sit on the back of her chair, and read Cautiously, aware that everyone in the inn was looking at him and grinning, he pulled himself across the bar top until he could see down. Esk stared up at him. Look 'em right in the eye, Granny had always said: focus your power on 'em, stare 'em out, no one can outstare a witch, 'cept a goat, of course.
The landlord, whose name was Skiller, found himself looking directly down at a small child who seemed to be squinting. through its eyes. So Esk expected to go to bed around sunset, and that was long past. There was a doorway ahead of her that looked friendly. Cheerful sounds were sliding out on the yellow light, and pooling on the cobbles. With the staff still radiating random magic like a demon lighthouse she headed for it, weary but determined. The landlord of The Fiddler's Riddle considered himself to be a man of the world, and this was right, because he was too stupid to be really cruel, and too lazy to be really mean and although his body had been around quite a lot his mind had never gone further than the inside of his own head. He wasn't used to being addressed by sticks. Especially when they spoke in a small piping voice, and asked for goat's milk.
Thursday 5 March 2009
Andy Warhol daisy 1982
Andy Warhol daisy 1982Andy Warhol Camouflage green yellow whiteAndy Warhol Brooklyn Bridge
plunged forward, fighting now out of terror of what would happen if he stopped. The ghostly arena was full of the cluttering of grip was unshakeable. He pulled himself up and planted one last satisfying blow into its remaining eye. It screamed, and ran. And there was only one place for it to run to.
The tower and the red sky came back with the click of restored time.the Dungeon creatures, a wall of rustling sound that hammered at his ears as he struggled. He imagined that sound filling the Disc, and he flung blow after blow to save the world of men, to preserve the little circle of firelight in the dark night of chaos and to lose the gap through which the nightmare was advancing. But mainly he hit it to stop it hitting back.Claws or talons drew white-hotlines across his back, and something bit his shoulder, but he found a nest of soft tubes among all the hairs and scales and squeezed it hard.An arm barbed with spikes swept him away, and he rolled over in the gritty black dust.Instinctively he curled into a ball, but nothing happened. Instead of the onslaught of fury he expected he opened his eyes to see the creature limping away from him, various liquids leaking from it.It was the first time anything had ever run away from Rincewind.He dived after it, caught a scaly leg, and wrenched. The creature chittered at him and flailed desperately with such appendages as were still working, but Rincewind's
plunged forward, fighting now out of terror of what would happen if he stopped. The ghostly arena was full of the cluttering of grip was unshakeable. He pulled himself up and planted one last satisfying blow into its remaining eye. It screamed, and ran. And there was only one place for it to run to.
The tower and the red sky came back with the click of restored time.the Dungeon creatures, a wall of rustling sound that hammered at his ears as he struggled. He imagined that sound filling the Disc, and he flung blow after blow to save the world of men, to preserve the little circle of firelight in the dark night of chaos and to lose the gap through which the nightmare was advancing. But mainly he hit it to stop it hitting back.Claws or talons drew white-hotlines across his back, and something bit his shoulder, but he found a nest of soft tubes among all the hairs and scales and squeezed it hard.An arm barbed with spikes swept him away, and he rolled over in the gritty black dust.Instinctively he curled into a ball, but nothing happened. Instead of the onslaught of fury he expected he opened his eyes to see the creature limping away from him, various liquids leaking from it.It was the first time anything had ever run away from Rincewind.He dived after it, caught a scaly leg, and wrenched. The creature chittered at him and flailed desperately with such appendages as were still working, but Rincewind's
Tuesday 3 March 2009
Jack Vettriano The Railway Station
Jack Vettriano The Railway StationJack Vettriano The Picnic PartyJack Vettriano The Missing ManJack Vettriano The Man in the Mirror
'Oh yes. No end of fun. Volcanoes all over the place. It really meant something, being a rock then.There was none f this sedimentary nonsense, you were igneous or nothing. Of course, that's all gone now. People call themselves about this new star. What does it mean?'
'I don't know,' said Rincewind. 'Everyone seems to think I know about it, but I don't —'
'It's not that we would mind being melted down,' said the big troll. That's how we all started, anyway. But we thought, maybe, it might mean the end of everything and that doesn't seem a very good thing.'
'It's getting bigger,' said another troll. 'Look at it now. Bigger than last night.'
Rincewind looked. It was definitely bigger than last night.trolls today, well, sometimes they're hardly more than slate. Chalk even. I wouldn't give myself airs if you could use me to draw with, would you?''No,' said Rincewind quickly. 'Absolutely not, no. This, er, this legend thing. It said you shouldn't bite me?''That's right!' said the little troll on his foot, 'and it was me who told you where the onions were!''We're rather glad you came along,' said the first troll, which Rincewind couldn't help noticing was the biggest one there. 'We're a bit worried
'Oh yes. No end of fun. Volcanoes all over the place. It really meant something, being a rock then.There was none f this sedimentary nonsense, you were igneous or nothing. Of course, that's all gone now. People call themselves about this new star. What does it mean?'
'I don't know,' said Rincewind. 'Everyone seems to think I know about it, but I don't —'
'It's not that we would mind being melted down,' said the big troll. That's how we all started, anyway. But we thought, maybe, it might mean the end of everything and that doesn't seem a very good thing.'
'It's getting bigger,' said another troll. 'Look at it now. Bigger than last night.'
Rincewind looked. It was definitely bigger than last night.trolls today, well, sometimes they're hardly more than slate. Chalk even. I wouldn't give myself airs if you could use me to draw with, would you?''No,' said Rincewind quickly. 'Absolutely not, no. This, er, this legend thing. It said you shouldn't bite me?''That's right!' said the little troll on his foot, 'and it was me who told you where the onions were!''We're rather glad you came along,' said the first troll, which Rincewind couldn't help noticing was the biggest one there. 'We're a bit worried
Monday 2 March 2009
John William Waterhouse Juliet
John William Waterhouse JulietJohn William Waterhouse Flora and the ZephyrsJohn William Waterhouse Apollo and DaphneVincent van Gogh On the Outskirts of Paris
sluggish nature of Disc light) it actually grew a bit shorter and a little more massive as it plunged, with unerring aim, towards Galder's neck.
It didn't reach it. Instead, it swerved to one side and began a fast orbit – so fast that Galder appeared suddenly to be old witch hasn't been seen for years. They say she was done up good and proper by a couple of young tearaways.'
'Kids of today,' commented Rincewind.
'I blame the parents,' said Twoflower.wearing a metal collar. He turned around, and to Trymon it seemed that he had suddenly grown several feet taller and much more powerful.The knife broke away and shuddered into the door a mere shadow's depth from Trymon's ear.'Early in the morning?' said Galder pleasantly. 'My dear lad, you will need to stay up all night.' 'Have a bit more table,' said Rincewind.'No thanks, I don't like marzipan,' said Twoflower. 'Anyway, I'm sure it's not right to eat other people's furniture.''Don't worry,' said Swires. The
sluggish nature of Disc light) it actually grew a bit shorter and a little more massive as it plunged, with unerring aim, towards Galder's neck.
It didn't reach it. Instead, it swerved to one side and began a fast orbit – so fast that Galder appeared suddenly to be old witch hasn't been seen for years. They say she was done up good and proper by a couple of young tearaways.'
'Kids of today,' commented Rincewind.
'I blame the parents,' said Twoflower.wearing a metal collar. He turned around, and to Trymon it seemed that he had suddenly grown several feet taller and much more powerful.The knife broke away and shuddered into the door a mere shadow's depth from Trymon's ear.'Early in the morning?' said Galder pleasantly. 'My dear lad, you will need to stay up all night.' 'Have a bit more table,' said Rincewind.'No thanks, I don't like marzipan,' said Twoflower. 'Anyway, I'm sure it's not right to eat other people's furniture.''Don't worry,' said Swires. The
Sunday 1 March 2009
Benjamin Williams Leader A Fine Day on the Thames
Benjamin Williams Leader A Fine Day on the ThamesAlexei Alexeivich Harlamoff The Flower GirlsAlexei Alexeivich Harlamoff Literary Pursuits of a Young LadyJean Fragonard The Swing
He turned back to Twoflower.
"I can see what it is," he said, "But what is it?"
Twoflower shrugged. Behind Rincewind the sea troll said, "Up ahead is my house. We will talk more when we are there.
A double rainbow corruscated into being. Close into the lip of the Rimfall were the seven lesser colours, sparkling and dancing in the spray of the dying seas.
But they were pale in comparison to the wider band that floated beyond them, not deigning to share the same spectrum. It was the King Colour, of . Now I must row."Rincewind found that looking ahead meant that he would have to turn and find out what a sea troll actually looked like, and he wasn't sure he wanted to do that yet. He looked at the Rimbow instead. It hung in the mists a few lengths beyond the edge of the world, appearing only at morning and evening when the light of the Disc's little orbiting sun shone past the massive bulk of Great A'tuin the World Turtle and struck the Disc's magical field at exactly the right angle
He turned back to Twoflower.
"I can see what it is," he said, "But what is it?"
Twoflower shrugged. Behind Rincewind the sea troll said, "Up ahead is my house. We will talk more when we are there.
A double rainbow corruscated into being. Close into the lip of the Rimfall were the seven lesser colours, sparkling and dancing in the spray of the dying seas.
But they were pale in comparison to the wider band that floated beyond them, not deigning to share the same spectrum. It was the King Colour, of . Now I must row."Rincewind found that looking ahead meant that he would have to turn and find out what a sea troll actually looked like, and he wasn't sure he wanted to do that yet. He looked at the Rimbow instead. It hung in the mists a few lengths beyond the edge of the world, appearing only at morning and evening when the light of the Disc's little orbiting sun shone past the massive bulk of Great A'tuin the World Turtle and struck the Disc's magical field at exactly the right angle
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