aroace yelena belova supremacy

Aside from Duchamp’s readymades, I love “Bride Stripped Bare By Her Bachelors Even”. Pictured below, the work invokes a complex machine, one my professor spent a great deal of time studying. Eventually, he reached his conclusion. My professor had been pranked. He believes “Bride Stripped Bare” is a joke about masturbation, hidden to all except those study it excessively.

As a lover of art, there are many complex and technically impressive works being created today, which both embrace different artistic traditions and break from them. To ignore those is to ignore contemporary art.

Here, OP is raging against conceptual art, which stimulates thought and challenges tradition. He wants his followers to believe that art has “degenerated”, because the West has “degenerated”. OP is intentionally engaging with fascist ideas of “degenerate art”.

If OP wanted to be accurate, he would seek to restore the Salon System, the Beaux Arts Academy, and classical training in the arts. The collapse of this specific system allowed for Modernism to evolve. Of course, that’s not what OP is talking about. He’s evoking beauty as a moral standard, telling his followers to “restore Western tradition”, to fight against aesthetic “degeneracy” in culture.

(By the way, Duchamp is commenting ON MODERNISM with “Fountain”. Duchamp submitted the work to the Society of Independent Artists’ salon in New York, who would accept any work by any artist, for a small fee. In part, Duchamp is saying, “Is this what you Modernists want? A urinal? Look me in the eyes and prove this is not art.”

Duchamp had other readymades, like his snow shovel, where if you actually look at the photos, the handle is square and the bowl is way too flimsy. Why would manufacturers make a snow shovel with a squared-off handle? It’s impossible to hold! Duchamp slapped the “readymades” label on all these items and the hoity-toity art people who were so good at looking at things didn’t see it (probably because they’d never had to do labor like shovel snow imo, amongst other things).

And they’re different! If it was a real “readymade” he could have just bought some more at his local hardware store, but no. He changed them in OBVIOUS WAYS.

See the triangle of holes?

Here’s the one from the Tate Modern:

Oh hello, cross-holes. Fancy seeing you here.

SFMOMA’s edition has the triangle holes, but it also has a line of holes at the top that are completely different from either other version.

Here’s one from Moderna Museet. Line and a circular set of holes!

Duchamp definitely intentionally made these different on purpose. It’s a “readymade” but it’s not, really, each of these is a specific custom creation.

It’s not even clear if he made it! He wrote a letter to his sister claiming that a female friend sent it to him, and he just enrolled it in the art exhibit under his own name. There’s also a possibility that that female friend was himself, since he later had a female pseudonym of Rrose Sélav.

and sometimes that message is

“die mad about it.”

After lunch they are seated in the den, fondly flipping through old photograph albums, when Ilya spies one that makes him lean over and squint. In the way of disposable camera film from the early aughts, it is grainy and overexposed, but there are no mistaking the warm brown eyes and pouty lips of Shane Hollander, looking blank faced at the camera. What comes as a surprise are the bleached blond ends of his dark hair, styled into crunchy looking spikes with obscene amounts of product.

Ilya emits a noise that can only be described as a squawk. Hand clapped to his mouth, because he barely trusts himself to speak, he chokes out, "What is...this?"

Yuna glances over nonchalantly. "Oh, that. Shane begged me to let him get frosted tips when he was 12."

Ilya will die. He will die right here, gagging on suppressed laughter, and Yuna will be forced to clean the mess of his remains off the berber carpet.

"I think he was trying to emulate some boy band he was obsessed with then. NSYNC maybe? I thought it was a bad idea, but David convinced me to let him try it out. Shane was going through a moody period, and he thought it might help."

"And-" Ilya squeaks in way too high a pitch, then clears his throat. "Ahem. And did it?"

Yuna thinks. "Hard to say. God, he was a bit of a bitchy preteen." She chuckles. "He had a poster of Lance Bass taped to his closet door. In hindsight, I should have guessed the gay thing much earlier."

Ilya can no longer contain his laughter. He doubles over with it, waving his hand and wheezing, "Sorry, sorry." He wipes tears from his eyes. "I can have this picture?"

Yuna shrugs. "Sure. The poster is probably still upstairs in his closet, if you want that, too. I've been meaning to clear it out-"

For Part 1, see my post about Shane's boy band phase here

Shane nervously traces the rim of his water glass with his middle finger. Around him, the restaurant buzzes with activity, the clack of cleaned plates stacked by busy servers, the murmur of idle patrons awaiting their entrees, the tinkling of piano keys pressed by expert musical fingers.

Suddenly a beautiful- no, beautiful isn't the word, sirenic, divine, enchanting- woman slides into the booth across from him. "Shane Hollander," she purrs.

Shane startles and extends his hand out to shake hers. She laughs and bats it away, leaning over the table to press a chaste kiss to his cheek.

"Hi Svetlana," he says sheepishly.

"Where is Ilya?" She glances at the table, no doubt noticing the absence of a tumbler of vodka.

"Call with his lawyer. Visa issues. Everything's fine, but he said not to wait up. He'll join later."

Svetlana smiles conspiriatorily and reaches into her purse. "Well. I was looking forward to busting his balls directly, but maybe its more fun this way. A little private joke between us," she says, winking.

Shane wants very much for Svetlana to like him. He knows after the Ottawa trade was announced, she'd let loose a string of Russian expletives over the phone with Ilya. Ilya had begged them both to play nice, and so far they've managed to keep their interactions mostly cordial, if frosty.

"What is it?"

She slides something across the table to him face down. "A little souvenir I found last time I was in Moscow."

Shane picks up a photograph. It is glossy, showing an orange date and time burned on the image in the way of early 2000's digital cameras. The boy in the photo is a gangly adolescent, face dotted with a few pimples, but there is no mistaking the glittering hazel eyes and plush cupid bow of his lips. But instead of Ilya's soft curls, the boy has shoulder-length dirty blond hair, almost singed looking, as though straightened by too hot a styling tool. Long, side swept bangs cover half his entire face, with a few strands of hot pink highlights. His eyes are outlined in dark charcoal, giving off "fuck you" vibes. He is dressed in tight dark jeans, a grungy grey tee with Cyrillic lettering, and a studded leather belt, hands shoved apathetically into his pockets.

Shane gasps into his palm. "Ohmygod."

"I know, right?"

"He looks so..."

"Ridiculous?" Svetlana is cackling.

Shane smiles fondly at the photo and traces teenage Ilya with his finger. "I was gonna say precious."

"Ugh, not you, too Shane. Always with the-" she wiggles her hand, "-disgusting in love."

"He just looks so young," Shane murmurs. "He's a baby."

"Who is baby?" Ilya's warm, gravely voice asks as he slides into the booth next to Svetlana and kisses her cheek. He locks eyes with Shane and knocks his knee against his under the table.

"I was just showing Shane your My Chemical Romance era."

Ilya's eyes snap down to the photo and a look of abject horror crosses his face. "What the fuck?? Svetlana!"

"Relax, he thinks its cute." Svetlana rolls her eyes.

"Is not CUTE! Shane. It was subversive, to be emo in Russia. They tried to outlaw it. I was radical," Ilya sputters.

Shane quirks an eyebrow. "I don't think listening to Dashboard Confessional makes you a radical. "

Ilya flips him the bird.

Shane scoffs but taps his shoe against Ilya's under the table.

They eventually stop teasing Ilya and enjoy a nice lunch together. Before they part, Shane hugs Svetlana hesitantly. She whispers in his ear, "I will bring more pictures next time."

Later, back at the hotel, Ilya is washing up in the bathroom. Shane connects Ilya's phone to his portable bluetooth speaker. He swipes through Ilya's Spotify and selects a song. The punchy guitar riffs of The Middle by Jimmy Eat World come through the speakers.

The bathroom door slams open and Ilya stalks out, glaring. "Oh, you think you are being funny?"

the way it plays into his father treating him like a disappointment because i ABSOLUTELY buy that his father would hold it against him and count it as a mark against him, especially where disability intersects with masculinity as a detraction. i also see it being held against irina, and the complex guilt of his mother being held responsible for his weakness.

this is even worse if alexei DOESN'T have any food allergies, because his brother both joins in and is an example that his father can use that it's a defect of ilya.

related: ilya being drilled from the time he's a kid to tell NO ONE about it because he's been brought up under the idea that he should be ashamed of it as a failure because rozanov men aren't susceptible to fucking tree nuts of all fucking things. ilya at family dinners/public events who becomes an expert at moving things around on his plate because he's not allowed to admit to any allergies, so nothing there is safe for him even among family. ilya who technically has a seat at the table but nothing on his plate that won't hurt him.

ilya in a new country having to translate every fucking label when it uses words he had no reason to learn in his english classes and different countries use different words for different things, so some things don't even have a translation that he can find.

ilya who is on med leave for a game because of accidental exposure and who hears people being happy about it because his reputation makes people rejoice at him potentially being sick or injured and not on the ice with them. ilya in a hospital, still feeling like shit because anaphylaxis is a bitch, seeing tweets of people not knowing what exactly happened but still being happy about it.

ilya leaning into partying/drinking/clubs because alcohol (at least as shots or single mixers) is a reliably safe option for socializing. he can't do dinners or meals with other people without admitting to what he's been trained to think of as a failure, but he can go to a club and down some vodka and be the life of the party because his weakness can't follow him here.

the reassurance of shane being so driven by routine and predictability. he's not bringing home surprises or new brands, and even if he did, he already checked the label after he's aware of ilya's allergies. he can go to shane's home at any time and know that the same things are in there and that those things are safe for him.

the summer at the cottage being the first time ilya has got to spend a summer being relaxed. he doesn't have to fake eat at family events. he doesn't have to hear his father's scorn when he checks labels as subtly as he can but still gets seen doing it. he gets there and finds out that shane already went grocery shopping and that everything in the cottage is available to him because it's all safe.

the pasta with shane's parents looking so simple and basic because david said he'd make lunch, and shane spoke up before ilya could tell him not to to say he needed to check the labels first to make sure they were good with the new diet he's trying. shane who covers for him, not because he views it as a failure but because he knows that ilya does. shane who got to tell the truth to his parents for the first time but still lies for ilya's sake. and even after he fesses up because he doesn't want shane keeping secrets from his parents just for him, david and yuna don't scorn him for it. it's a group hunt through labels and google, and in the end, it's pasta with some sauce made out of a tin of tomatoes they luckily had on hand and parmesan grated off of a fresh block that came still in the wrapper.

@brainrockets

the concept of him embracing a habit with longterm consequences because he needs something to make him feel okay in the present, and how this thing he adopts to cope just masks the central problem

and also ultimately causes him harm (nicotine addiction/smoke damage/etc.), but how the FUCK else is he supposed to make it long enough to even HAVE consequences

mandatory patient-to-nurse ratio laws modeled after the laws in California

pay nurses more

Nurse Shane Security Guard Ilya Headcanon Universe

Headcanons

The OG Headcanon

A patient drew a picture of Shane

Shift break nap

Mini thoughts

How they spend days off

Sexual dynamic

Shane meal preps for Ilya

Who proposes

Shane finds out Ilya bought his engagement ring the same week they became boyfriends

On Halloween Ilya dresses up as a slutty nurse

There’s a dog! At the hospital!

Shane gets Ilya a ring too

How Shane looks after Ilya after a bad shift

Night shift exhaustion **new

Extras

A blanket on sale that she knows is a texture Shane will like, sesame mochi — the only dessert Shane will eat — David’s favourite brand of chocolate covered almonds (Meiji, obviously).

And when Ilya joins their family it takes a while, but Yuna notices that he always reaches for the dried mangoes when there’s a bag open, and he eats the Miss Vickies sweet and spicy ketchup chips by the handful.

So it makes sense to her that she would pick these things up when she sees them at the store and make sure her pantry is stocked for all her boys.

Ilya only finds out when they’re over at his parents on a movie night, and Shane, rummaging around the pantry for snacks groans “at this point, you have more of Ilya’s stuff than you do mine,”

“My stuff?” He asks, completely befuddled.

“Yeah, like the ketchup chips and the dried mangoes. Your snacks take up the whole pantry.”

“My snacks,” Ilya says again flatly, still not understanding. “But you all eat these.”

“I mean sure,” Shane agrees, “but my mom buys them for you. Because you like them.”

“This is true?” Ilya turns to Yuna with wide eyes.

And Yuna smiles softly at him, maybe a little sheepishly at being called out so blatantly, and shrugs.

“I mean, yes, honey. I thought you liked those snacks?”

And Ilya gets all teary and reassures her that he loves these snacks. He’s obsessed with these snacks. They are his favourite snacks.

And he starts noticing how anytime he shows interest in something, it will start showing up regularly at the Hollander household—snacks, candy, that specific Japanese soda Ilya likes with the marble.