#illuminators

The Secret of Kells (2009, Tomm Moore, Nora Twomey)

Frankenstein (Frankenstein's Monster)

- from ReAction Universal Monsters

- by Super7

Quick Shot

A very quick one today. Busy season is still upon us, unfortunately.

And we're also in the middle of an algorithm slump over on Insta - with our posts getting recommended less than usual, and engagement down as a result.

So what better way to combat that than posting something that traditionally doesn't do great!

But I don't care. I love these little figures. And the bootleg-inspired colorways on these Universal Monsters are right in my wheelhouse.

These toys scratch a similar itch to mass-retail Sofubi for me - simplified designs, creatively designed, and fun colors - the purest example of what makes a toy.

[Instagram link for this post]

Full disclosure- I hate the way these pictures came out. This was from the last shoot I did before I bought the new lights I showed off back on [May 26th] - The lighting in my apartment gives my shots this awful green and yellow tint.

Usually I can combat this with creative lighting angles and post-processing. But this one wouldn't budge. And all the digital editing on the world couldn't save it.

Izuka Hoyle as Aludra

(I was pissed her character - some random darkfriend - had all of one episode in the show. She deserved a better role.)

Before modern paper, small artworks were made on parchment: thin sheets of animal skin treated with lime, stretched until thin and flat, and dried. Once cut to the size of a page, manuscript illuminators like Simon Bening illustrated religious texts for wealthy patrons. Images were sketched in crayon or lead and then painted in tempera. Tempera was made from natural (plant- or mineral-based) pigments mixed with egg yolk.

In the world that only in dreams exist

Where everything was in perfect place

I see angels blowing their trumphets

And playing their harps

In a sweet tone that serenades my soul

The skies are blue

And surounded by green lushes

I smell the refreshing scent of flowers

That perfumes the cold breeze of December

The fruit bearing trees

And the golden grains in the fields

That are ready to harvest

I've meet happy faces

Full of love and symphaty

No traces of sorrows and pain

No place for hate and anger

I wish I can't go back to sleep again

So could stay here in the place I'm in

I don’t want to be the first to speak Even if it’s through my red wine teeth You don’t seem to realise that I’ve spoken first a thousand times

I cross platforms just to see The transient prints you left behind And even if I find you there Your stone-cold tongue won’t move a bit

I'm crazy to still stand here, on the shore Arms outstretched, my organs in hand Dripping red that sinks into sand By the transient prints you left behind

And when your boat pulls in You won’t even flinch You’ll pass me by and assume I’ll follow To the house I built