William Bouguereau Jeune Bergere DeboutJohn Constable Malvern HallJohn William Waterhouse The SorceressJohn William Waterhouse The Enchanted Garden
er, I‑‘ Victor began.
‘I can bitecrackled from his fingers, and there was a greasy feel to the air that even student wizards soon learned to associate with a vast accumulation of magical potential. And there was fog in the pit. It was ridiculous, but there it was, covering the floor like a pale silver tide.
He shook Ginger’s shoulder. He waved a hand in front of her eyes. He shouted in her ear.
Then he tried the Patrician, and Dibbler. They yielded to pressure but swayed gently back into position again.
‘The film’s doing something to them,’ he said. ‘It must be the film. But I can’t see how. It’s a perfectly ordinary film. We don’t use magic in Holy Wood. At least . . . not normal magic it quite hard,’ Gaspode added. ‘Just say the word.’‘No, er‑‘‘Something’s boding, just like I said. Bode, bode, bode. Laddie’s tried barkin’ until he’s hoarse and no‑one’s listenin’. So I fort I’d try the old cold nose technique. Never fails.’Victor looked around him. The rest of the audience were staring at the screen as if they were prepared to remain in their seats for . . . for . . .. . . forever.When he lifted up his arms from his seat, sparks
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Nicolas De Stael Noon Landscape
Nicolas De Stael Noon LandscapeNicolas De Stael Jazz MusiciansNicolas De Stael Fiesole 1953Nicolas De Stael Cap Gris-NezNicolas De Stael Agrigente
trick was to do magic and get away with it.
Because it room in some cheap building in some town that was about as real as, as, as, well, as the thickness of a click. It wasn’t the place to have thoughts like this.
The important thing was to remember that Holy Wood wasn’t a real place at all.
He stared at the posters again. You just get one chance, she said. You live for maybe seventy years, and if you’re lucky you get one chance. Think of all the natural skiers who are born in deserts. Think of all the genius blacksmiths who were born hundreds of years before anyone invented the horsewas as if the human race was a field of corn and magic helped the users grow just that bit taller, so that they stood out. That attracted the attention of the gods and - Victor hesitated - other Things. outside this world. People who used magic without knowing what they were doing usually came to a sticky end. All over the entire room, sometimes. He pictured Ginger, back on the beach. I want to be the most famous person in the whole world. Perhaps that was something new, come to think of it. Not ambition for gold, or power, or land or all the things that were familiar parts of the human world. Just ambition to be yourself, as big as possible. Not ambition for, but to be. He shook his head. He was just in some
trick was to do magic and get away with it.
Because it room in some cheap building in some town that was about as real as, as, as, well, as the thickness of a click. It wasn’t the place to have thoughts like this.
The important thing was to remember that Holy Wood wasn’t a real place at all.
He stared at the posters again. You just get one chance, she said. You live for maybe seventy years, and if you’re lucky you get one chance. Think of all the natural skiers who are born in deserts. Think of all the genius blacksmiths who were born hundreds of years before anyone invented the horsewas as if the human race was a field of corn and magic helped the users grow just that bit taller, so that they stood out. That attracted the attention of the gods and - Victor hesitated - other Things. outside this world. People who used magic without knowing what they were doing usually came to a sticky end. All over the entire room, sometimes. He pictured Ginger, back on the beach. I want to be the most famous person in the whole world. Perhaps that was something new, come to think of it. Not ambition for gold, or power, or land or all the things that were familiar parts of the human world. Just ambition to be yourself, as big as possible. Not ambition for, but to be. He shook his head. He was just in some
Friday, March 27, 2009
Claude Monet Bank of the Seine Vetheuil
Claude Monet Bank of the Seine VetheuilClaude Monet Autumn at ArgenteuilRene Magritte Woman BathingRene Magritte The Voice of the WindsRene Magritte The Sea of Flames
towards them.
He rounded the zebra pens and homed in on his assistant M’Bu, who was peacefully mucking out the ostriches.
‘How many-’ he stopped, and began to wheeze.
M’Bu, who was twelve years old, dropped his shovel and patted him heavily on the back.
‘How many-’ he tried again.
‘You been
‘Someone want elephants, boss?’
‘-got fifteen head, he was telling me, plus also there’s a load at the logging camp probably going cheap, call it two dozen-’
‘Someone want a lot of elephants, boss?’
‘-was saying there’s a herd over T’etse way, shouldn’t be a problemoverdoing it again, boss?’ said M’Bu in a concerned voice. ‘How many elephants we got?’ ‘I just done them,’ said M’Bu. ‘We got three.’ ‘Are you sure?’ ‘Yes, boss,’ said M’Bu, evenly. ‘It’s easy to be sure, with elephants.’ Azhural crouched in the red dust and hurriedly began to scrawl figures with a stick. ‘Old Muluccai’s bound to have half a dozen,’ he muttered. ‘And Tazikel’s usually got twenty or so, and then the people on the delta generally have-’
towards them.
He rounded the zebra pens and homed in on his assistant M’Bu, who was peacefully mucking out the ostriches.
‘How many-’ he stopped, and began to wheeze.
M’Bu, who was twelve years old, dropped his shovel and patted him heavily on the back.
‘How many-’ he tried again.
‘You been
‘Someone want elephants, boss?’
‘-got fifteen head, he was telling me, plus also there’s a load at the logging camp probably going cheap, call it two dozen-’
‘Someone want a lot of elephants, boss?’
‘-was saying there’s a herd over T’etse way, shouldn’t be a problemoverdoing it again, boss?’ said M’Bu in a concerned voice. ‘How many elephants we got?’ ‘I just done them,’ said M’Bu. ‘We got three.’ ‘Are you sure?’ ‘Yes, boss,’ said M’Bu, evenly. ‘It’s easy to be sure, with elephants.’ Azhural crouched in the red dust and hurriedly began to scrawl figures with a stick. ‘Old Muluccai’s bound to have half a dozen,’ he muttered. ‘And Tazikel’s usually got twenty or so, and then the people on the delta generally have-’
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Francois Boucher The Interrupted Sleep
Francois Boucher The Interrupted SleepFrancois Boucher Portrait of Marquise de PompadourFrancois Boucher Diana Resting after her BathJohannes Vermeer The Love letterJohannes Vermeer The Concert
into a narrow alley.
Victor searched among the usual alley debris for a while until he found a piece of scrap paper. Then he rolled up his sleeves.
He watched a man in a long black cloak, a black hat and a moustache like a yard brush tie a girl to one of the trees. No-one seemed interested in stopping him, even though she was struggling. A couple of people were in fact watching disinterestedly, and there was a man standing And only then did he inspect the fence carefully until he found a couple of loose boards that, with a bit of effort, let him through. This brought him into an area stacked with lumber and piles of cloth. There was no-one around. Walking purposefully, in the knowledge that no-one with their sleeves rolled up who walks purposefully with a piece of paper held conspicuously in their hand is ever challenged, he set out across the wood and canvas wonderland of Interesting and Instructive Kinematography. There were buildings painted on the back of other buildings. There were trees that were trees, at the front, and just a mass of struts at the back. There was a flurry of activity although, as far as Victor could see; no-one was actually producing anything.
into a narrow alley.
Victor searched among the usual alley debris for a while until he found a piece of scrap paper. Then he rolled up his sleeves.
He watched a man in a long black cloak, a black hat and a moustache like a yard brush tie a girl to one of the trees. No-one seemed interested in stopping him, even though she was struggling. A couple of people were in fact watching disinterestedly, and there was a man standing And only then did he inspect the fence carefully until he found a couple of loose boards that, with a bit of effort, let him through. This brought him into an area stacked with lumber and piles of cloth. There was no-one around. Walking purposefully, in the knowledge that no-one with their sleeves rolled up who walks purposefully with a piece of paper held conspicuously in their hand is ever challenged, he set out across the wood and canvas wonderland of Interesting and Instructive Kinematography. There were buildings painted on the back of other buildings. There were trees that were trees, at the front, and just a mass of struts at the back. There was a flurry of activity although, as far as Victor could see; no-one was actually producing anything.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Andy Warhol Neuschwanstein
Andy Warhol NeuschwansteinAndy Warhol Knives black and whiteAndy Warhol GunsAndy Warhol Gun 1982Andy Warhol Dollar Sign 1981
by a raised block, with a blanket and a pillow on it.
Neither of them looked particularly old. It was almost disappointing.
Gern craned to look around.
'Quite nice, really,' he said. 'Comfy.'
'No,' said , showing what Dil considered to be unnecessary enthusiasm.
'No. It's one of the really ancient dialects. Can't make out a blessed hieroglyph,' said Teppicymon. 'I shouldn't think there's a single person alive today who can read it.'
'That's a shame,' said Gern.
'True enough,' said the king, and sighed. They stood in gloomy silence.
'So perhaps we could ask one of the dead ones?' said Gern.
'Er. Gern,' said Dil, backing away.Dil. 'Hey, master king, look here,' said Gern, trotting over to one of the walls. 'Look. Someone's been scratching things. Look, all little lines all over the wall.' 'And this wall,' said the king, 'and the floor. Someone's been counting. Every ten have been crossed through, you see. Someone's been counting things. Lots of things.' He stood back. 'What things?' said Dil, looking behind him. 'Very strange,' said the king. He leaned forward. 'You can barely make out the inscriptions underneath.' 'Can you read it, king?' said Gern
by a raised block, with a blanket and a pillow on it.
Neither of them looked particularly old. It was almost disappointing.
Gern craned to look around.
'Quite nice, really,' he said. 'Comfy.'
'No,' said , showing what Dil considered to be unnecessary enthusiasm.
'No. It's one of the really ancient dialects. Can't make out a blessed hieroglyph,' said Teppicymon. 'I shouldn't think there's a single person alive today who can read it.'
'That's a shame,' said Gern.
'True enough,' said the king, and sighed. They stood in gloomy silence.
'So perhaps we could ask one of the dead ones?' said Gern.
'Er. Gern,' said Dil, backing away.Dil. 'Hey, master king, look here,' said Gern, trotting over to one of the walls. 'Look. Someone's been scratching things. Look, all little lines all over the wall.' 'And this wall,' said the king, 'and the floor. Someone's been counting. Every ten have been crossed through, you see. Someone's been counting things. Lots of things.' He stood back. 'What things?' said Dil, looking behind him. 'Very strange,' said the king. He leaned forward. 'You can barely make out the inscriptions underneath.' 'Can you read it, king?' said Gern
Friday, March 20, 2009
Andy Warhol Dollar Sign 1981
Andy Warhol Dollar Sign 1981Andy Warhol Diamond Dust ShoesAndy Warhol daisy 1982Andy Warhol Camouflage green yellow whiteAndy Warhol Brooklyn Bridge
seemed to be taken pretty bad there-' Arthur began. Teppic waved his hands dismissively.
'Look,' he said, 'please, I don't want anyone sensibly pointing out things. I don't want anyone telling me I should rest. None of it 'Well, thirty per cent honest,' Chidder admitted, 'which is a lot more honest than most. You'd better tell me how you know. Extremely quickly.'
'I - don't know,' said Teppic. 'When I was . . . asleep, it seemed I knew everything. Everything about everything. I think my father is dead.'matters. I will be back in the kingdom as soon as possible. It's not a case of must, you understand. I will. And you can help me, Chiddy.' 'How?' 'Your father has an extremely fast vessel he uses for smuggling,' said Teppic flatly. 'He will lend it to me, in exchange for favourable consideration of future trading opportunities. If we leave inside the hour, it will do the journey in plenty of time.' 'My father is an honest trader!' 'On the contrary. Seventy per cent of his income last year was from undeclared trading in the following commodities-' Teppic's eyes stared into nothingness - 'From illegal transport of gullanes and leuchars, nine per cent. From night-running of untaxed-'
seemed to be taken pretty bad there-' Arthur began. Teppic waved his hands dismissively.
'Look,' he said, 'please, I don't want anyone sensibly pointing out things. I don't want anyone telling me I should rest. None of it 'Well, thirty per cent honest,' Chidder admitted, 'which is a lot more honest than most. You'd better tell me how you know. Extremely quickly.'
'I - don't know,' said Teppic. 'When I was . . . asleep, it seemed I knew everything. Everything about everything. I think my father is dead.'matters. I will be back in the kingdom as soon as possible. It's not a case of must, you understand. I will. And you can help me, Chiddy.' 'How?' 'Your father has an extremely fast vessel he uses for smuggling,' said Teppic flatly. 'He will lend it to me, in exchange for favourable consideration of future trading opportunities. If we leave inside the hour, it will do the journey in plenty of time.' 'My father is an honest trader!' 'On the contrary. Seventy per cent of his income last year was from undeclared trading in the following commodities-' Teppic's eyes stared into nothingness - 'From illegal transport of gullanes and leuchars, nine per cent. From night-running of untaxed-'
Thursday, March 19, 2009
John William Waterhouse Apollo and Daphne
John William Waterhouse Apollo and DaphneVincent van Gogh On the Outskirts of ParisVincent van Gogh Ladies of ArlesSalvador Dali The Ecumenical CouncilSalvador Dali The Cellist Ricardo Pichot
find out what was actually being sung you would have to go all the way back down to the dying fire by the standing stone, where the cross-resonances and waves of conflicting echoes focused on a small, elderly woman who was waving an empty bottle.
'—with a snail if you slow to a crawl, but the hedgehog—'
'It tastes better at the bottom of the bottle, doesn't it,' Magrat said, trying to drown out the chorus.
'That's right,' said Granny, draining her cup.
'Is there Nanny Ogg stopped singing.
'Yes,' said Granny Weatherwax. 'Well.'
Magrat became aware of an uncomfortable atmosphere.
'You did tell the truth, didn't you?' she said. 'They really are brothers, aren't any more?''I think Gytha finished it, by the sound of it.'They sat on the fragrant heather and stared up at the moon.'Well, we've got a king,' said Granny. 'And there's an end of it.''It's thanks to you and Nanny, really,' said Magrat, and hiccupped.'Why?''None of them would have believed me if you hadn't spoken up.''Only because we was asked,' said Granny.'Yes, but everyone knows witches don't lie, that's the important thing. I mean, everyone could see they looked so alike, but that could have been coincidence. You see,' Magrat blushed, 'I looked up droit de seigneur. Goodie Whemper had a dictionary.'
find out what was actually being sung you would have to go all the way back down to the dying fire by the standing stone, where the cross-resonances and waves of conflicting echoes focused on a small, elderly woman who was waving an empty bottle.
'—with a snail if you slow to a crawl, but the hedgehog—'
'It tastes better at the bottom of the bottle, doesn't it,' Magrat said, trying to drown out the chorus.
'That's right,' said Granny, draining her cup.
'Is there Nanny Ogg stopped singing.
'Yes,' said Granny Weatherwax. 'Well.'
Magrat became aware of an uncomfortable atmosphere.
'You did tell the truth, didn't you?' she said. 'They really are brothers, aren't any more?''I think Gytha finished it, by the sound of it.'They sat on the fragrant heather and stared up at the moon.'Well, we've got a king,' said Granny. 'And there's an end of it.''It's thanks to you and Nanny, really,' said Magrat, and hiccupped.'Why?''None of them would have believed me if you hadn't spoken up.''Only because we was asked,' said Granny.'Yes, but everyone knows witches don't lie, that's the important thing. I mean, everyone could see they looked so alike, but that could have been coincidence. You see,' Magrat blushed, 'I looked up droit de seigneur. Goodie Whemper had a dictionary.'
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Thomas Moran Moonlit Seascape
Thomas Moran Moonlit SeascapeThomas Moran Grand Canyon of the YellowstoneThomas Moran Cresheim Glen, Wissahickon, AutumnThomas Moran Colburn's Butte, South UtahThomas Moran Cliffs of the Upper Colorado river
silver dollars and eighteen copper pieces in profit, I make it,' said Tomjon.
'That was amazing,' said the Fool. 'I mean, the way they volunteered to go home and get some more money as well, after you gave them that speech about the rights of man.'
He dabbed some more ointment on his head.
'And the youngest one started to cry,' he added. 'Amazing.'
'It wears off,' said Hwel.
'You're a dwarf, aren't you?'
Hwel the least I can do,' said the Fool nervously. 'And I'm sure the little fellow would like something to quaff.'
Hwel gripped the edge of the table and opened his mouth to roar.didn't feel he could deny this.'I can tell you're a Fool,' he said.'Yes. It's the bells, isn't it?' said the Fool wearily, rubbing his ribs.'Yes, and the bells.' Tomjon grimaced and kicked Hwel under die table.'Well, I'm very grateful,' said the Fool. He stood up, and winced. 'I'd really like to show my gratitude,' he added. 'Is there a tavern open around here?'Tomjon joined him at the window, and pointed down the length of the street.'See all those tavern signs?' he said.'Yes. Gosh. There's hundreds.''Right. See the one at the end, with the blue and white sign?''Yes. I think so.''Well, as far as I know, that's the only one around here that's ever closed.''Then pray allow me to treat you to a drink. It's
silver dollars and eighteen copper pieces in profit, I make it,' said Tomjon.
'That was amazing,' said the Fool. 'I mean, the way they volunteered to go home and get some more money as well, after you gave them that speech about the rights of man.'
He dabbed some more ointment on his head.
'And the youngest one started to cry,' he added. 'Amazing.'
'It wears off,' said Hwel.
'You're a dwarf, aren't you?'
Hwel the least I can do,' said the Fool nervously. 'And I'm sure the little fellow would like something to quaff.'
Hwel gripped the edge of the table and opened his mouth to roar.didn't feel he could deny this.'I can tell you're a Fool,' he said.'Yes. It's the bells, isn't it?' said the Fool wearily, rubbing his ribs.'Yes, and the bells.' Tomjon grimaced and kicked Hwel under die table.'Well, I'm very grateful,' said the Fool. He stood up, and winced. 'I'd really like to show my gratitude,' he added. 'Is there a tavern open around here?'Tomjon joined him at the window, and pointed down the length of the street.'See all those tavern signs?' he said.'Yes. Gosh. There's hundreds.''Right. See the one at the end, with the blue and white sign?''Yes. I think so.''Well, as far as I know, that's the only one around here that's ever closed.''Then pray allow me to treat you to a drink. It's
Monday, March 16, 2009
Lorenzo Lotto Madonna and Child with Saints
Lorenzo Lotto Madonna and Child with SaintsCamille Pissarro Place du Theatre FrancaisCamille Pissarro Landscape at ChaponvalSir Henry Raeburn Boy And RabbitJean Fragonard Young Girl Reading
'Verence, King of Lancre,' said the ghost, and bowed. 'Do I have the honour of addressing Granny Weatherwax, doyenne of witches?'
It has already been pointed out that just because Verence came from a long line of kings didn't mean that he was basically stupid, and a year without the distractions of the flesh had done wonders as well. Granny Weatherwax considered herself totally unsusceptible to buttering up, but the king was expertly applying the equivalent of the dairy surplus of quite a large country. Bowing was a particularly good touch.
A muscle I indulged in a little trickery to arrange matters. Currently I am haunting her apron.'
'Not the first, either,' said Granny, automatically.
'Esme!'
'And I beg you, Granny Weatherwax, to restore my son to the throne.'
'Restore?'twitched at the corner of Granny's mouth. She gave a stiff little bow in return, because she wasn't quite sure what 'doyenne' meant.'I'm her,' she conceded.'You can get up now,' she added, regally.King Verence remained kneeling, about two inches above the actual ground.'I crave a boon,' he said urgently.'Here, how did you get out of the castle?' said Granny.'The esteemed Nanny Ogg assisted me,' said the king. 'I reasoned, if I am anchored to the stones of Lancre, then I can also go where the stones go. I am afraid
'Verence, King of Lancre,' said the ghost, and bowed. 'Do I have the honour of addressing Granny Weatherwax, doyenne of witches?'
It has already been pointed out that just because Verence came from a long line of kings didn't mean that he was basically stupid, and a year without the distractions of the flesh had done wonders as well. Granny Weatherwax considered herself totally unsusceptible to buttering up, but the king was expertly applying the equivalent of the dairy surplus of quite a large country. Bowing was a particularly good touch.
A muscle I indulged in a little trickery to arrange matters. Currently I am haunting her apron.'
'Not the first, either,' said Granny, automatically.
'Esme!'
'And I beg you, Granny Weatherwax, to restore my son to the throne.'
'Restore?'twitched at the corner of Granny's mouth. She gave a stiff little bow in return, because she wasn't quite sure what 'doyenne' meant.'I'm her,' she conceded.'You can get up now,' she added, regally.King Verence remained kneeling, about two inches above the actual ground.'I crave a boon,' he said urgently.'Here, how did you get out of the castle?' said Granny.'The esteemed Nanny Ogg assisted me,' said the king. 'I reasoned, if I am anchored to the stones of Lancre, then I can also go where the stones go. I am afraid
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Rene Magritte The Voice of the Winds
Rene Magritte The Voice of the WindsRene Magritte The Sea of FlamesRene Magritte The Ignorant FairyRene Magritte The Human ConditionRene Magritte The Great War
troupe got under way a few hours before sunset, their four carts lurching off down the road that led towards the Sto plains and the big cities. Lancre had a town rule that all mummers, mountebanks and other potential criminalsjust paint and paper. Anyone could see that.'
Magrat opened her mouth to speak, ran the ensuing argument through her head, and shut it again.
'Where's Nanny?' she said.
'She's lying out on the lawn,' said Granny. 'She felt a bit poorly.' And from outside were outside the gates by sundown; it didn't offend anyone really because the town had no walls to speak of, and no-one much minded if people nipped back in again after dark. It was the look of the thing that counted.The witches watched from Magrat's cottage, using Nanny Ogg's ancient green crystal ball.'It's about time you learned how to get sound on this thing,' Granny muttered. She gave it a nudge, filling the image with ripples.'It was very strange,' said Magrat. 'In those carts. The things they had! Paper trees, and all kinds of costumes, and—' she waved her hands – 'there was this great big picture of forn parts, with all temples and things all rolled up. It was beautiful.'Granny grunted.'I thought it was amazing the way all those people became kings and things, didn't you? It was like magic.''Magrat Garlick, what are you saying? It was
troupe got under way a few hours before sunset, their four carts lurching off down the road that led towards the Sto plains and the big cities. Lancre had a town rule that all mummers, mountebanks and other potential criminalsjust paint and paper. Anyone could see that.'
Magrat opened her mouth to speak, ran the ensuing argument through her head, and shut it again.
'Where's Nanny?' she said.
'She's lying out on the lawn,' said Granny. 'She felt a bit poorly.' And from outside were outside the gates by sundown; it didn't offend anyone really because the town had no walls to speak of, and no-one much minded if people nipped back in again after dark. It was the look of the thing that counted.The witches watched from Magrat's cottage, using Nanny Ogg's ancient green crystal ball.'It's about time you learned how to get sound on this thing,' Granny muttered. She gave it a nudge, filling the image with ripples.'It was very strange,' said Magrat. 'In those carts. The things they had! Paper trees, and all kinds of costumes, and—' she waved her hands – 'there was this great big picture of forn parts, with all temples and things all rolled up. It was beautiful.'Granny grunted.'I thought it was amazing the way all those people became kings and things, didn't you? It was like magic.''Magrat Garlick, what are you saying? It was
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Johannes Vermeer Saint Praxidis
Johannes Vermeer Saint PraxidisJohannes Vermeer Lady Standing at a VirginalJohannes Vermeer A Lady Writing a Letter
maid put her hand to her mouth. Her shoulders shook. Her eyes sparkled. A sound like escaping steam crept between her fingers.
I can't help it, Cutwell thought, I just seem to have this amazing effect on women.
'Is it a manjoined them with extreme reluctance but with remarkable self-control. Only the frantic bobbing of his adam's apple betrayed him. There was no doubt about it, he'd be no good for magic for days.
She turned and he caught a whiff of talcum powder. For weeks, dammit, for weeks.?' came Keli's voice from within. The maid's eyes glazed over and she tilted her head, as if not sure of what she had heard.'It's me, Cutwell,' said Cutwell.'Oh, that's all right, then. You can come in.'Cutwell pushed past the girl and tried to ignore the muffled laughter as the maid fled the room. Of course, everyone knew a wizard didn't need a chaperon. It was just the tone of the princess's 'Oh, that's all right then' that made him writhe inside.Keli was sitting at her dressing table, brushing her hair. Very few men in the world ever find out what a princess wears under her dresses, and Cutwell
maid put her hand to her mouth. Her shoulders shook. Her eyes sparkled. A sound like escaping steam crept between her fingers.
I can't help it, Cutwell thought, I just seem to have this amazing effect on women.
'Is it a manjoined them with extreme reluctance but with remarkable self-control. Only the frantic bobbing of his adam's apple betrayed him. There was no doubt about it, he'd be no good for magic for days.
She turned and he caught a whiff of talcum powder. For weeks, dammit, for weeks.?' came Keli's voice from within. The maid's eyes glazed over and she tilted her head, as if not sure of what she had heard.'It's me, Cutwell,' said Cutwell.'Oh, that's all right, then. You can come in.'Cutwell pushed past the girl and tried to ignore the muffled laughter as the maid fled the room. Of course, everyone knew a wizard didn't need a chaperon. It was just the tone of the princess's 'Oh, that's all right then' that made him writhe inside.Keli was sitting at her dressing table, brushing her hair. Very few men in the world ever find out what a princess wears under her dresses, and Cutwell
Marc Chagall Rain
Marc Chagall RainMarc Chagall Blue LoversMarc Chagall The Concert
'I demand to see the wizard,' she announced. 'Pray admit me this instant.'
'He's She beat on the door with renewed vigour, yelling with all the power in her lungs.
A voice by her ear said, 'It won't work. He 'eef very fstubborn.'rather busy at present,' said the face. 'Were you after a love potion?''A what?''I've – we've got a special on Cutwell's Shield of Passion ointment,' said the face, and winked in a startling fashion. 'Provides your wild oats while guaranteeing a crop failure, if you know what I mean.'Keli bridled. 'No,' she lied coldly, 'I do not.''Ramrub? Maidens' Longstop? Belladonna eyedrops?''I demand —''Sorry, we're closed,' said the face, and shut the door. Keli withdrew her foot just in time.She muttered some words that would have amazed and shocked her tutors, and thumped on the woodwork.The tattoo of her hammering suddenly slowed as realisation dawned.He'd seen her! He'd heard her!
'I demand to see the wizard,' she announced. 'Pray admit me this instant.'
'He's She beat on the door with renewed vigour, yelling with all the power in her lungs.
A voice by her ear said, 'It won't work. He 'eef very fstubborn.'rather busy at present,' said the face. 'Were you after a love potion?''A what?''I've – we've got a special on Cutwell's Shield of Passion ointment,' said the face, and winked in a startling fashion. 'Provides your wild oats while guaranteeing a crop failure, if you know what I mean.'Keli bridled. 'No,' she lied coldly, 'I do not.''Ramrub? Maidens' Longstop? Belladonna eyedrops?''I demand —''Sorry, we're closed,' said the face, and shut the door. Keli withdrew her foot just in time.She muttered some words that would have amazed and shocked her tutors, and thumped on the woodwork.The tattoo of her hammering suddenly slowed as realisation dawned.He'd seen her! He'd heard her!
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Thomas Kinkade Lombard Street
Thomas Kinkade Lombard StreetThomas Kinkade Lakeside ManorThomas Kinkade cottage by the sea
Finding out about Albert tagged itself on to the end of his list of things to do.
HOLD THIS, said Death, and pushed a scythe into his hand while he swung himself up on to Binky. The scythe looked normal without ostentation and could slide between dimensions as easily as he could slip through a locked door, and they moved at an easy gallop through cloud canyons, past great billowing mountains of cumulus, until the wisps parted in front of them and the Disc lay below, basking in sunlight.
THAT'S BECAUSE TIME IS ADJUSTABLE, said Death, hen Mort pointed this out. IT'S NOT REALLY IMPORTANT.enough, except for the blade: it was so thin that Mort could see through it, a pale blue shimmer in the air that could slice flame and chop sound. He held it very carefully.RIGHT, BOY, said Death. COME ON UP. ALBERT. DON'T WAIT UP.The horse trotted out of the courtyard and into the sky.There should have been a flash or rush of stars. The air should have spiralled and turned into speeding sparks such as normally happens in the common, everyday trans-dimensional hyper-jumps. But this was Death, who has mastered the art of going everywhere
Finding out about Albert tagged itself on to the end of his list of things to do.
HOLD THIS, said Death, and pushed a scythe into his hand while he swung himself up on to Binky. The scythe looked normal without ostentation and could slide between dimensions as easily as he could slip through a locked door, and they moved at an easy gallop through cloud canyons, past great billowing mountains of cumulus, until the wisps parted in front of them and the Disc lay below, basking in sunlight.
THAT'S BECAUSE TIME IS ADJUSTABLE, said Death, hen Mort pointed this out. IT'S NOT REALLY IMPORTANT.enough, except for the blade: it was so thin that Mort could see through it, a pale blue shimmer in the air that could slice flame and chop sound. He held it very carefully.RIGHT, BOY, said Death. COME ON UP. ALBERT. DON'T WAIT UP.The horse trotted out of the courtyard and into the sky.There should have been a flash or rush of stars. The air should have spiralled and turned into speeding sparks such as normally happens in the common, everyday trans-dimensional hyper-jumps. But this was Death, who has mastered the art of going everywhere
Monday, March 9, 2009
Vincent van Gogh Sunflowers
Vincent van Gogh SunflowersVincent van Gogh ReaperEdmund Blair Leighton Off
The student wizards had run back to the Great Hall, where Cutangle and Granny Weatherwax were still locked in the magical equivalent of Indian arm wrestling. The flagstones under Granny were halfmelted and cracked and the table behind Cutangle had taken root and already bore a rich crop of acorns.
One of the Granny led him out into the passage and around the corner to a window-seat. She sat down, leaning her broomstick against the wall. Rain drummed heavily on the roofs outside, and a few zigzags of lightning indicated a storm of Ramtop proportions approaching the city.
"That was quite an impressive display," she said: "You nearly won once or twice there."students had earned several awards for bravery by daring to tug at Cutangle's cloak .... And now they were crowded into the narrow room, looking at the two bodies. Cutangle summoned doctors of the body and doctors of the mind, and the room buzzed with magic as they got to work. Granny tapped him on the shoulder. "A word in your ear, young man," she said. "Hardly young, madam," sighed Cutangle, "hardly young." He felt drained. It had been decades since he'd duelled in magic, although it was common enough among students. He had a nasty feeling that Granny would have won eventually. Fighting her was like swatting a fly on your own nose. He couldn't think what had come over him to try it.
The student wizards had run back to the Great Hall, where Cutangle and Granny Weatherwax were still locked in the magical equivalent of Indian arm wrestling. The flagstones under Granny were halfmelted and cracked and the table behind Cutangle had taken root and already bore a rich crop of acorns.
One of the Granny led him out into the passage and around the corner to a window-seat. She sat down, leaning her broomstick against the wall. Rain drummed heavily on the roofs outside, and a few zigzags of lightning indicated a storm of Ramtop proportions approaching the city.
"That was quite an impressive display," she said: "You nearly won once or twice there."students had earned several awards for bravery by daring to tug at Cutangle's cloak .... And now they were crowded into the narrow room, looking at the two bodies. Cutangle summoned doctors of the body and doctors of the mind, and the room buzzed with magic as they got to work. Granny tapped him on the shoulder. "A word in your ear, young man," she said. "Hardly young, madam," sighed Cutangle, "hardly young." He felt drained. It had been decades since he'd duelled in magic, although it was common enough among students. He had a nasty feeling that Granny would have won eventually. Fighting her was like swatting a fly on your own nose. He couldn't think what had come over him to try it.
Amedeo Modigliani the Reclining Nude
Amedeo Modigliani the Reclining NudeAlphonse Maria Mucha SummerAlphonse Maria Mucha Spring
eminence. He represents his tribe in all his dealings with the outside world, which the average Zoon long ago gave up trying to understand. Zoon tribes are very proud of their Liars.
Other raceswill be people at will worry, yesno?"
"I expect Granny will come looking for me," said Esk, "but I don't think she will worry much. Just be angry, I expect. Anyway, I'm going to Ankh-Morpork. You can put me off the ship -"
"- boat -"
"- if you like. I don't mind about the pike."
"I can't do that," said Amschat.
"Was that a lie?" get very annoyed about all this. They feel that the Zoon ought to have adopted more suitable titles, like "diplomat" or "public relations officer". They feel they are poking fun at the whole thing. "Is all that true?" said Esk suspiciously, looking around the barge's crowded cabin. "No," said Amschat firmly. His junior over a tiny ornate stove, giggled. His three children watched Esk solemnly over the edge of the table. "Don't you ever tell the truth?" "Do you?" Amschat grinned his goldmine grin, but his eyes were not smiling. "Why do I find you on my fleeces? Amschat is no kidnapper. There
eminence. He represents his tribe in all his dealings with the outside world, which the average Zoon long ago gave up trying to understand. Zoon tribes are very proud of their Liars.
Other raceswill be people at will worry, yesno?"
"I expect Granny will come looking for me," said Esk, "but I don't think she will worry much. Just be angry, I expect. Anyway, I'm going to Ankh-Morpork. You can put me off the ship -"
"- boat -"
"- if you like. I don't mind about the pike."
"I can't do that," said Amschat.
"Was that a lie?" get very annoyed about all this. They feel that the Zoon ought to have adopted more suitable titles, like "diplomat" or "public relations officer". They feel they are poking fun at the whole thing. "Is all that true?" said Esk suspiciously, looking around the barge's crowded cabin. "No," said Amschat firmly. His junior over a tiny ornate stove, giggled. His three children watched Esk solemnly over the edge of the table. "Don't you ever tell the truth?" "Do you?" Amschat grinned his goldmine grin, but his eyes were not smiling. "Why do I find you on my fleeces? Amschat is no kidnapper. There
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Edgar Degas The Rehearsal
Edgar Degas The RehearsalEdgar Degas The Bellelli FamilyEdgar Degas At the Races
me, little one. It's only old Granny."
The hump didn't uncurl.
Granny bit her lip. She was never quite certain about children, thinking of them - when she thought about them at all - as coming somewhere between animals and people. She understood babies. You put milk in one end and kept the other end as clean as possible. Adults were even easier, because they did the feeding and cleaning themselves. But in between was a world of experience that she had never really enquired about. As far as she was aware, you just tried to stop them catching anything fatal and hoped that it would all turn out all right.
Granny, in fact, was at a loss, but she knew she had to do something.
ventured.
There was no perceptible effect.
"Eskarina Smith, if you don't behave this minute I will give you such a smack!"
Esk poked her head out cautiously.nasty wolfie fwiten us, den?" she hazarded. For quite the wrong reasons, this seemed to work. From the depths of the ball a muffled voice said: "I am eight, you know." "People who are eight don't curl up in the middle of the snow," said Granny, feeling her way through the intricacies of adult-child conversation. The ball didn't answer. "I've probably got some milk and biscuits
"There's no need to be like that," she said.
When Smith reached the cottage Granny had just arrived, leading Esk by the
me, little one. It's only old Granny."
The hump didn't uncurl.
Granny bit her lip. She was never quite certain about children, thinking of them - when she thought about them at all - as coming somewhere between animals and people. She understood babies. You put milk in one end and kept the other end as clean as possible. Adults were even easier, because they did the feeding and cleaning themselves. But in between was a world of experience that she had never really enquired about. As far as she was aware, you just tried to stop them catching anything fatal and hoped that it would all turn out all right.
Granny, in fact, was at a loss, but she knew she had to do something.
ventured.
There was no perceptible effect.
"Eskarina Smith, if you don't behave this minute I will give you such a smack!"
Esk poked her head out cautiously.nasty wolfie fwiten us, den?" she hazarded. For quite the wrong reasons, this seemed to work. From the depths of the ball a muffled voice said: "I am eight, you know." "People who are eight don't curl up in the middle of the snow," said Granny, feeling her way through the intricacies of adult-child conversation. The ball didn't answer. "I've probably got some milk and biscuits
"There's no need to be like that," she said.
When Smith reached the cottage Granny had just arrived, leading Esk by the
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Salvador Dali The Transparent Simulacrum of the Feigned Image
Salvador Dali The Transparent Simulacrum of the Feigned ImageSalvador Dali The Disintegration of the Persistence of MemorySalvador Dali The CrucifixionMark Rothko Orange and Yellow
'It's very patient and it never gives up. That's sapient pearwood you're dealing with. It'll let you think it's forgotten you, then one day you'll be walking along a dark street and you'll hear these little footsteps behind you – shlup, shlup, they'll go, then you'll start running and they'll speed up, shlupshlupSHLUP—'
'Shut up!'By late afternoon they came to the crest of a hill and looked down on the broad valley of the upper Smarl, the longest river on the Disc. It was already half a mile across, and heavy with the silt that made the lower valley the most fertile area on the continent. A few wisps of early mist wreathed its banks.
'Shlup,' said Rincewind. He felt Weems jerk upright in the saddle. shouted Weems.'It's probably already recognised you, so —''I said shut up!'Herrena turned around in her saddle and glared at them. Weems scowled and pulled Rincewind's ear until it was ight in front his mouth, and said hoarsely, I'm afraid of nothing, understand? This wizard stuff, I spit on it.''They all say that until they hear the footsteps,' said Rincewind. He stopped. A knifepoint was pricking his ribs. Nothing happened for the rest of the day but, to Rincewind's satisfaction and Weems' mounting paranoia, the Luggage showed itself several times. Here it would be perched incongruously on a crag, there it would be half-hidden in a ditch with moss growing over it.
'It's very patient and it never gives up. That's sapient pearwood you're dealing with. It'll let you think it's forgotten you, then one day you'll be walking along a dark street and you'll hear these little footsteps behind you – shlup, shlup, they'll go, then you'll start running and they'll speed up, shlupshlupSHLUP—'
'Shut up!'By late afternoon they came to the crest of a hill and looked down on the broad valley of the upper Smarl, the longest river on the Disc. It was already half a mile across, and heavy with the silt that made the lower valley the most fertile area on the continent. A few wisps of early mist wreathed its banks.
'Shlup,' said Rincewind. He felt Weems jerk upright in the saddle. shouted Weems.'It's probably already recognised you, so —''I said shut up!'Herrena turned around in her saddle and glared at them. Weems scowled and pulled Rincewind's ear until it was ight in front his mouth, and said hoarsely, I'm afraid of nothing, understand? This wizard stuff, I spit on it.''They all say that until they hear the footsteps,' said Rincewind. He stopped. A knifepoint was pricking his ribs. Nothing happened for the rest of the day but, to Rincewind's satisfaction and Weems' mounting paranoia, the Luggage showed itself several times. Here it would be perched incongruously on a crag, there it would be half-hidden in a ditch with moss growing over it.
Tuesday, March 3, 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
'Oh,' said Rincewind, deflating a bit. 'Oh, right. Right then. Good. Perhaps we'd better be off, then.'
He scrambled up and brushed the snow off himself.
'Only I think we should wait until morning,' added Twoflower.
'Why?'
'Well, because it's freezing cold, we don't really know where we are, the Luggage has gone missing, it's getting dark—'
Rincewind paused. In the deep canyons of his mind he thought he heard the distant rustle of ancient paper. He had a horrible feeling that his dreams were going to be very repetitive from now on, and he had much better things to do than be lectured by a bunch of ancient spells who couldn't even agree on how the Universe began —'Oh, shut up,' said Rincewind wearily. 'I don't suppose there's anything to eat around here?'
The giant stones were black and menacing against the dying green light of sunset. The inner circle was full of druids, scurrying around by the light of several bonfires and tuning up all the necessary peripherals of a stone rams' skulls on poles topped with mistletoe, banners embroidered with twisted snakes and so on. Beyond the circles of firelight a large number of plains people had gathered; druidic festivals were always popular, especially when things went wrong. Rincewind stared at them.
'What's going on?'A tiny dry voice at the back of his brain said: What things?'Oh, shut up,' he said.'I only said it's freezing cold and—' Twoflower began.'I didn't mean you, I meant me.''What?'
'Oh,' said Rincewind, deflating a bit. 'Oh, right. Right then. Good. Perhaps we'd better be off, then.'
He scrambled up and brushed the snow off himself.
'Only I think we should wait until morning,' added Twoflower.
'Why?'
'Well, because it's freezing cold, we don't really know where we are, the Luggage has gone missing, it's getting dark—'
Rincewind paused. In the deep canyons of his mind he thought he heard the distant rustle of ancient paper. He had a horrible feeling that his dreams were going to be very repetitive from now on, and he had much better things to do than be lectured by a bunch of ancient spells who couldn't even agree on how the Universe began —'Oh, shut up,' said Rincewind wearily. 'I don't suppose there's anything to eat around here?'
The giant stones were black and menacing against the dying green light of sunset. The inner circle was full of druids, scurrying around by the light of several bonfires and tuning up all the necessary peripherals of a stone rams' skulls on poles topped with mistletoe, banners embroidered with twisted snakes and so on. Beyond the circles of firelight a large number of plains people had gathered; druidic festivals were always popular, especially when things went wrong. Rincewind stared at them.
'What's going on?'A tiny dry voice at the back of his brain said: What things?'Oh, shut up,' he said.'I only said it's freezing cold and—' Twoflower began.'I didn't mean you, I meant me.''What?'
Monday, March 2, 2009
Arthur Hughes The Long Engagement
Arthur Hughes The Long EngagementArthur Hughes The King's OrchardGeorge Inness OctoberAlbert Bierstadt Valley of the Yosemite
but then we're threatened, also at a vast expenditure of magic-"
"Yes, I thought it would be something like seaweed," agreed Rincewind. "They certainly taste like seaweed would taste if anyone was masochistic enough to eat seaweed."
"-and then we're manhandled by guards and thrown in here-"
"Pushed gently," corrected Garhartra.
"-which turned out to be this amazingly rich room and there's all this food and a man saying he's devoting his us happy," Twoflower concluded. "What I'm getting at is this sort of lack of consistency."
"Yar," hardly be a sacrifice if we didn't, would it? But don't worry - it'll be comparatively painless."
"Comparatively? Compared to what?" said Rincewind. He picked up a tall green bottle that was full of sea grape jellyfish wine and hurled it hard at the Guestmaster, who flung up a hand as if to protect himself.
There was a crackle of octarine flame from his fingers and the air suddenly took said Rincewind. "What he means is, are you about to start being generally unpleasant again? Is this just a break for lunch?"Garhartra held up his hands reassuringly."Please, please," he protested. "It was just necessary to get you here as soon as possible. We certainly do not want to enslave you. Please be reassured on that score.""Well, fine," said Rincewind."Yes, you will in fact be sacrificed," Garhartra continued placidly."Sacrificed? You're going to kill us?" shouted the wizard."Kill? Yes, of course. Certainly! It would
but then we're threatened, also at a vast expenditure of magic-"
"Yes, I thought it would be something like seaweed," agreed Rincewind. "They certainly taste like seaweed would taste if anyone was masochistic enough to eat seaweed."
"-and then we're manhandled by guards and thrown in here-"
"Pushed gently," corrected Garhartra.
"-which turned out to be this amazingly rich room and there's all this food and a man saying he's devoting his us happy," Twoflower concluded. "What I'm getting at is this sort of lack of consistency."
"Yar," hardly be a sacrifice if we didn't, would it? But don't worry - it'll be comparatively painless."
"Comparatively? Compared to what?" said Rincewind. He picked up a tall green bottle that was full of sea grape jellyfish wine and hurled it hard at the Guestmaster, who flung up a hand as if to protect himself.
There was a crackle of octarine flame from his fingers and the air suddenly took said Rincewind. "What he means is, are you about to start being generally unpleasant again? Is this just a break for lunch?"Garhartra held up his hands reassuringly."Please, please," he protested. "It was just necessary to get you here as soon as possible. We certainly do not want to enslave you. Please be reassured on that score.""Well, fine," said Rincewind."Yes, you will in fact be sacrificed," Garhartra continued placidly."Sacrificed? You're going to kill us?" shouted the wizard."Kill? Yes, of course. Certainly! It would
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Pino THE DANCER
Pino THE DANCERPino SWEET DREAMSPino SENSUALITYPino MOTHER'S LOVE
wings, Twoflower peered up at the shapes of roosting beasts and tiny men-shaped dots that were somehow walking upside down.
This is a roosting hall, said the dragon in a satisfied tone.
As Twoflower watched, one of the shapes far above detached itself from the roof and began to grow larger...
in front of him in a cold blue flame that streamed in the wind.
He waved the other hand, drunk with terror and magic.
"Ebiris," he intoned. The sound froze into Rincewind watched as Lio!rt's pale face dropped away from him. This is funny, gibbered a small part of his mind, why am I rising?Then he began to tumble in the air and reality took over. He was dropping to the distant, guano-speckled rocks.His brain reeled with the thought. The words of the Spell picked just that moment to surface from the depths of his mind, as they always did in time of crisis. Why not say us, they seemed to urge. What have you got to lose?Rincewind waved a hand in the gathering slipstream."Ashonai," he called. The word formed
wings, Twoflower peered up at the shapes of roosting beasts and tiny men-shaped dots that were somehow walking upside down.
This is a roosting hall, said the dragon in a satisfied tone.
As Twoflower watched, one of the shapes far above detached itself from the roof and began to grow larger...
in front of him in a cold blue flame that streamed in the wind.
He waved the other hand, drunk with terror and magic.
"Ebiris," he intoned. The sound froze into Rincewind watched as Lio!rt's pale face dropped away from him. This is funny, gibbered a small part of his mind, why am I rising?Then he began to tumble in the air and reality took over. He was dropping to the distant, guano-speckled rocks.His brain reeled with the thought. The words of the Spell picked just that moment to surface from the depths of his mind, as they always did in time of crisis. Why not say us, they seemed to urge. What have you got to lose?Rincewind waved a hand in the gathering slipstream."Ashonai," he called. The word formed
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