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fulseldenWell, hello again, internet! And happy Christmas, to those who are celebrating - I feel the need to note that I just had my FIRST WHITE CHRISTMAS EVER, which was fairly glee inducing, even if it is somewhat disconcerting to find that much of the world has suddenly become a picture-postcard.
The only thing more exciting than snow (what? I live in Southern England. Mostly, we have rain. Or drizzle. Sometimes sleet) is Yuletide, for which I got the chance to write my effort at THE NERDIEST STORY EVER, and for which I've received not one but two completely fantastic stories, for which I can't thank the mystery authors enough - really, wow, this was my first Yuletide, and I can't wait to play again (and, no, not just because I have some woe about the slightness of my own contribution).
My main Yuletide story was the completely enchanting Tales of the Bathhouse, an absolutely lovely post-canon enlargement of Miyazaki's Spirited Away. This is just so totally in tune with the mood of the film, so sweet and shrewd and full of the detail and texture of the world of the bathhouse, that it's a delight from start to finish. And it manages to get all its canon characters spot-on while adding some immensely engaging new faces to the spirit world. I was sent scuttling off to rewatch the film, and having this story in mind made the whole world that much more alive. Not to mention, I got three stories for the price of one: really, thank you, mystery writer!
And for Yuletide Madness, someone wrote me a fantastic little coda to Bladerunner, Last Call, which is just entirely pitch-perfect: an amazing little snow-globe-size rendition of the themes and tone of the film, with Rachel making yet another choice about what it means to be human (but, uh, not as pretentious as that sounds). And it's a well-done iteration of a station scene to boot, last calls for boarding and all. Just amazing.
Really, both my stories were so exactly the kind of thing I wanted (despite my rather, hmm, sketchy requests - sorry, writers!) that I couldn't have had a better first go at Yuletide. I haven't had a chance to delve into the main archive yet, so a rec post proper will have to wait, but I'm just thrilled that the internet can do things like this. Good times!
Incidentally, yesterday's traditional Boxing Day Family Walk To The Pub ended up taking place at Cookham, which is famously (or, well, relatively so) the hometown of visionary 30s-50s painter Stanley Spencer. Now, Spencer is one of the few painters whom I actively REALLY FUCKING DISLIKE. Which isn't to say I don't think he's good - he is - he just gives me something of the same feeling as chewing on cotton wool. I have problems with a lot of English visionaries, who I often feel I should like a lot more than I do (oh, Blake), but none give me the creeps quite like Spencer.
For instance: Christ Carrying the Cross (1920).
Yeah. That there is Cookham.
Anyway, actually seeing Cookham, which was completely central to his life and work (shipped off on a trip to China by the British Council, Spencer is meant to have introduced himself to Mao with the immortal words "as you know, I come from Cookham...") makes me understand why my (admittedly cursory) knowledge of Spencer made me take so very much agin him. I'd always vaguely imagined the place as a full-on rural idyll, all stone walls and narrow lanes, when in fact the main village is rather flat and wide, very much in brick, not stone, country (I even saw my first ever brick-built fifteenth-century tracery in the church window! Yay!), and gives way to this wide reach of the Thames lined with red brick and stucco thirties Tudorbethan villas.
Now, no offense to anyone with a deep love of badminton playing, sunbathing, vicars and clipped lawns thirties suburbia, but it fills me with a kind of Sunday-afternoon horror. And it's just this kind of horror-film-surburbia aesthetic that rolls off Spencer's work, as far as I'm concerned - a kind of deep investment in a place that is itself fundamentally displaced; the mapping of intense, even apocalyptic emotion onto a landscape designed as a kind of polite backdrop to polite lives.
Now, I'm not sure how much this is just snobbishness on my part - I can take celebrations of suburbia when they're self aware and deeply middle-upper-middle class, a la Betjeman, and American horror-film suburbia is one of my favourite film settings, but, man, neat stockbroker's tudor houses and placid women in calf-length skirts coming home from bicycle rides just fill me with a kind of dreary eerieness. Spencer was one of the few great Christian painters of the twentieth century, for my money, and he makes his Cookham genuinely numinous - but for me, this often jangles horribly against the dull kind of spookiness already inherent in a world of weekend homes and river views. And seeing Cookham made me realise how all Spencer's work, even his (immensely powerful) war paintings, is informed by and filtered through just this aesthetic, turned up to eleven and infused with a kind of ardent longing. Gah.
Alternatively, all those boat-houses just gave me disturbing flashbacks of my less-than-stellar days of rowing. That might well explain some things.
So, uh, sorry to anyone who lives in Cookham and/or loves Spencer. I just had to get this revelation off my chest. In conclusion, go Yuletide!
The only thing more exciting than snow (what? I live in Southern England. Mostly, we have rain. Or drizzle. Sometimes sleet) is Yuletide, for which I got the chance to write my effort at THE NERDIEST STORY EVER, and for which I've received not one but two completely fantastic stories, for which I can't thank the mystery authors enough - really, wow, this was my first Yuletide, and I can't wait to play again (and, no, not just because I have some woe about the slightness of my own contribution).
My main Yuletide story was the completely enchanting Tales of the Bathhouse, an absolutely lovely post-canon enlargement of Miyazaki's Spirited Away. This is just so totally in tune with the mood of the film, so sweet and shrewd and full of the detail and texture of the world of the bathhouse, that it's a delight from start to finish. And it manages to get all its canon characters spot-on while adding some immensely engaging new faces to the spirit world. I was sent scuttling off to rewatch the film, and having this story in mind made the whole world that much more alive. Not to mention, I got three stories for the price of one: really, thank you, mystery writer!
And for Yuletide Madness, someone wrote me a fantastic little coda to Bladerunner, Last Call, which is just entirely pitch-perfect: an amazing little snow-globe-size rendition of the themes and tone of the film, with Rachel making yet another choice about what it means to be human (but, uh, not as pretentious as that sounds). And it's a well-done iteration of a station scene to boot, last calls for boarding and all. Just amazing.
Really, both my stories were so exactly the kind of thing I wanted (despite my rather, hmm, sketchy requests - sorry, writers!) that I couldn't have had a better first go at Yuletide. I haven't had a chance to delve into the main archive yet, so a rec post proper will have to wait, but I'm just thrilled that the internet can do things like this. Good times!
Incidentally, yesterday's traditional Boxing Day Family Walk To The Pub ended up taking place at Cookham, which is famously (or, well, relatively so) the hometown of visionary 30s-50s painter Stanley Spencer. Now, Spencer is one of the few painters whom I actively REALLY FUCKING DISLIKE. Which isn't to say I don't think he's good - he is - he just gives me something of the same feeling as chewing on cotton wool. I have problems with a lot of English visionaries, who I often feel I should like a lot more than I do (oh, Blake), but none give me the creeps quite like Spencer.
For instance: Christ Carrying the Cross (1920).
Yeah. That there is Cookham.
Anyway, actually seeing Cookham, which was completely central to his life and work (shipped off on a trip to China by the British Council, Spencer is meant to have introduced himself to Mao with the immortal words "as you know, I come from Cookham...") makes me understand why my (admittedly cursory) knowledge of Spencer made me take so very much agin him. I'd always vaguely imagined the place as a full-on rural idyll, all stone walls and narrow lanes, when in fact the main village is rather flat and wide, very much in brick, not stone, country (I even saw my first ever brick-built fifteenth-century tracery in the church window! Yay!), and gives way to this wide reach of the Thames lined with red brick and stucco thirties Tudorbethan villas.
Now, no offense to anyone with a deep love of badminton playing, sunbathing, vicars and clipped lawns thirties suburbia, but it fills me with a kind of Sunday-afternoon horror. And it's just this kind of horror-film-surburbia aesthetic that rolls off Spencer's work, as far as I'm concerned - a kind of deep investment in a place that is itself fundamentally displaced; the mapping of intense, even apocalyptic emotion onto a landscape designed as a kind of polite backdrop to polite lives.
Now, I'm not sure how much this is just snobbishness on my part - I can take celebrations of suburbia when they're self aware and deeply middle-upper-middle class, a la Betjeman, and American horror-film suburbia is one of my favourite film settings, but, man, neat stockbroker's tudor houses and placid women in calf-length skirts coming home from bicycle rides just fill me with a kind of dreary eerieness. Spencer was one of the few great Christian painters of the twentieth century, for my money, and he makes his Cookham genuinely numinous - but for me, this often jangles horribly against the dull kind of spookiness already inherent in a world of weekend homes and river views. And seeing Cookham made me realise how all Spencer's work, even his (immensely powerful) war paintings, is informed by and filtered through just this aesthetic, turned up to eleven and infused with a kind of ardent longing. Gah.
Alternatively, all those boat-houses just gave me disturbing flashbacks of my less-than-stellar days of rowing. That might well explain some things.
So, uh, sorry to anyone who lives in Cookham and/or loves Spencer. I just had to get this revelation off my chest. In conclusion, go Yuletide!
no subject
Date: 2010-12-28 03:19 am (UTC)I didn't participate in Yuletide, but I'm having fun reading all the stories. The very first thing I did was look for Boardwalk Empire fic, and THERE WAAAAS! There were four! And they were all lovely. There is also fic written by the Old Spice Guy! And he cites his sources!
I don't know anything about Spencer (or art), but Christ Carrying the Cross weirds me out because it just seems so...sterile is the only word I can think of. There's bright sunshine and faded pastels, and no one has any faces. So Christ just looks like some dude carrying a piece of wood--like he's going to build a house or something. It's not that I think Christ is some unassailable figure (elevator to Hell in 3...2...1...), but I'm not sure what Spencer is trying to say here. (Though, again, I know nothing about art).
no subject
Date: 2010-12-28 01:59 pm (UTC)That's a wonderful way of putting it - the seperate stories built up into such a gorgeous expansion of the film, and the whole thing felt so, hmm, handmade, just as a fairy tale (or spirit tale) should.
I don't know Boardwalk Empire (my loss, it sounds like), but omg that Old Spice fic was EPIC. I mean, yes, FOOTNOTES. Oh, man.
And, heh, it's not as though I'm an art expert or anything (otherwise I wouldn't have been so thrilled to find some way of starting to pin down what it is about Spencer that bugs me), but, yeah, I absolutely see what you mean about Christ Carrying the Cross. And the interesting thing is that while I'd certainly be joining you on that elevator (ding!), Spencer himself, to the best of my knowledge, was deeply, deeply devout and not trying to make any fancy statements about the status of Christianity or what have you. But yes, sterile is the word, at least here - I think part of it is that he doesn't really paint people, he paints figures, if you see what I mean. I think I'm gonna have to, y'know, actually read a book or something about the guy - he certainly gets to me, if not exactly in a good way.
no subject
Date: 2010-12-29 02:27 am (UTC)Prohibition has just gone into effect, and there are lots of gangsters and corrupt politicians trying to make money off it! And one of them is Steve Buscemi! And another one is this handsome fella I liked in the American remake of Funny Games! And World War I just ended, so there are a couple of characters with disabilities! And there is a Prohibition agent/detective that seems like he wandered into Atlantic City en route to investigating Laura Palmer's murder! And the guy that played the physics professor protagonist in A Serious Man is ARNOLD FRICKIN' ROTHSTEIN!
*ahem.* I will stop abusing punctuation and conjunctions now. But Boardwaaaaalk Empiiiiire....
But yes, sterile is the word, at least here - I think part of it is that he doesn't really paint people, he paints figures, if you see what I mean.
Oh, I hadn't thought of it that way, but yes, that's it, exactly! They're like wooden soldiers, or statues, or novelty chess pieces. And they seem like they're just part of the scenery in this really creepy way.
no subject
Date: 2011-01-02 12:56 am (UTC)And, yep, Spencer, brr. I just found a great piece on one of his paintings by the (consistently AWESOME) critic Tom Lubbock: here. I definitely buy Lubbock's charactisation of him as a Peter-Pan-ish artist, toy soldiers and all.
no subject
Date: 2011-01-02 02:56 am (UTC)Agents Cooper and Van Alden would either be BFFs or would hate each other--I'm not sure which
no subject
Date: 2010-12-28 09:33 am (UTC)My only sorrow is I'm rather slow, so I never end up writing very many Yuletide madness stories! I wrote two last year, one this year, and wish I'd been able to write more...
no subject
Date: 2010-12-28 02:03 pm (UTC)And, heh, there's no way you could be slower than me. Real life intervened in a big way pre Christmas, and I didn't manage any Yuletide madness stories, alas! I should find out if you can still upload stuff to the archive until New Year - there are so many great requests out there.
no subject
Date: 2010-12-28 08:19 pm (UTC)I think both the Yuletide and Yuletide Madness collections are closed now. However, after the new year, you can upload new years resolution stories! Because everyone's requests will stay up, and you can still write. I wrote two of those last year and they're generally lots of fun too. :D
no subject
Date: 2010-12-28 11:54 pm (UTC)Thanks for the heads up about new years resolution stories - yay! I've already found one fandom no-one has written for that I really want to try...
no subject
Date: 2010-12-29 12:35 am (UTC)Oh no worries, lol, this is the first of three years where I've really gotten a wordcount like that. I can't believe the small novels some people write, and on top of doing up treats for people! It's really something amazing. I got one fic and two treats so I kind of wanted to give as much as I got, but I didn't quite make it this year.
I totally recommend writing a NYR story ;)
no subject
Date: 2010-12-28 01:53 pm (UTC)Or not. I might just be printing my own town-related feelings over yours.
*points and laughs at the idea of rowing*
no subject
Date: 2010-12-28 02:11 pm (UTC)Mind you, there's nothing quite so desolate as a run-down spa town. Unreal doughnuts indeed.
*Sobs quietly; rubs ghostly blisters*
no subject
Date: 2010-12-28 02:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-12-29 02:20 am (UTC)Spencer, huh. *peers* I rather like the concept of putting crazy, apocalyptic scenes in the middle of suburbia. Recontextualization (yikes, is that a word? Firefox is dubious) is a good tool for making me rediscover the over-familiar, and the point he seems to be making about recognizing and identifying with characters in the scene is interesting. However, I take your point when I look at that creepy little wrought iron fence. Gah, indeed.
no subject
Date: 2011-01-02 12:47 am (UTC)Spencer, yeaaah. You see, everything you say is absolutely why I should love him to bits - I am normally all over the surburban recontextualisation (hey, looks like a word to me) and so forth. He is so nearly someone I could flat-out love, let alone respect - see The Resurrection, Cookham, or Resurrection of the Soldiers, for instance. And what little I know about him suggests that he was indeed all about identifying with the Biblical past through recognisable village characters - which, again, I'd normally be more than, ahem, down with (if not in an explicitly religious sense) - I mean, I love Piers Plowman, ffs. But I just can't deal with Spencer, and at the moment, I am blaming thirties suburbia, oh yes.
no subject
Date: 2011-01-02 02:34 am (UTC)Dude. Back in the day, before the pinch hit system was born and became mighty, poor astolat used to host a mad, stocking stuffer writing party at her place in New York. All her buddies would hole up together with their laptops, frantically researching unheard-of fandoms and pounding out drabbles, trying to make sure everybody got a tiny something on Christmas morning. This is better. (The first ficathons I ever played in didn't have pinch hitters at all. I failed to get a story, once or twice. Fandom: she gets bright ideas, sometimes. Some people live for writing the pinch hits!)
*clicks on Resurrection of the Soldiers*
*terrorized cartoon face*
*runs away*