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,'
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