Tuesday, April 28, 2009

Alexandre Cabanel Phedre

Alexandre Cabanel PhedreJoseph Mallord William Turner Dido Building CarthageJoseph Mallord William Turner Chichester CanalJoseph Mallord William Turner Rome from the Vatican
like a short set of Pan pipes, provided Pan was restricted to six notes, all of them the same. They were made of steel, welded together. There, the reason being, the stiff was dead at least two days, Cpl C. W. St. J. Nobbs agrees, so someone is telling meat pies, never trust anyone who falls on his arse for a living. Whereupon Dr Whiteface met us, and, damn near gave us the derriere velocite out of the place. It seemed to us, viz, me and Cpl C. W. St. J. Nobbs, that the Fools are worried that it might have been the Assassins, but we don't know why. Also, clown Boffo went on about us looking for Beano's nose, but he had a nose on when we saw him here, so we said to clown Boffo, did he mean a false nose, he said, no, a real one, bugger off. Whereupon we come back here.'
was a strip of serrated metal along one side, like a flattened-out cogwheel, and the whole thing reeked of fireworks.He laid it carefully beside his plate.He read Sergeant Colon's report. Fred Colon had spent some time on it, probably with a dictionary. It went as follows: 'Report of Sgt F. Colon. Approx. 10am today, Auguste 15, I proseeded in the company of Corporal, C. W. St. J. Nobbs, to the Guild of Fools and Joculators in God Street, whereupon we conversed with clown Boffo who said, down Beano, the corpus derelicti, was definitely seen by him, down Boffo, leaving the Guild the previous morning just after the explosion. This is dead bent in my opinion

Henri Rousseau A Carnival Evening

Henri Rousseau A Carnival EveningPaul Cezanne Three BathersPaul Cezanne The Black Clock
was a spang! noise. Cuddy's crossbow had gone off in his hand. The bolt whiffled past Corporal Nobbs' ear and landed in the river, where it stuck.
'Sorry,' said Cuddy.
'Tsk, tsk,' said Sergeant Colon.
That was the worst part. It would have been better all round if he'd called the dwarf some names. It would have been better if he'd made it seem that Cuddy was worth an insult.
He turned around and walked off towards Pseudo-polis Yard.
They heard his said Detritus, who already owed eleven dollars for bows.
' "If it's worth turning up"!' said Cuddy, losing the axe somewhere about his person again. 'Speciesist!'
'I don't think he meant it that way,' said Angua.
'Ho, it's all right for you,' said Cuddy.muttered comment.'What him say?' said Detritus.' "A fine body of men",' said Angua, going red.Cuddy spat on the ground, which didn't take long on account of its closeness. Then he reached under his cloak and produced, like a conjuror extracting a size 10 rabbit from a size 5 hat, his double-headed battle axe. And started to run.By the time he reached the virginal target he was a blur. There was a rip and the dummy exploded like a nuclear haystack.The other two wandered up and inspected the result, as pieces of chaff gently drifted to the ground.'Yes, all right,' said Angua. 'But he did say you're supposed to be able to ask them questions afterwards.''He didn't say they've got to be able to answer them,' said Cuddy grimly.'Lance-Constable Cuddy, deduct one dollar for target,'

Sunday, April 26, 2009

Rembrandt The Return of the Prodigal Son

Rembrandt The Return of the Prodigal SonRembrandt rembrandt nightwatch paintingRaphael The Sistine MadonnaWilliam Bouguereau Biblis
'More of her face would have enabled us to be certain of the likeness, however. There is sufficient, I believe. You may go, Bl-enkin.'
'Yes, Mr Edward.'
'A little something off the ears, I th-ink.'
'Yes, Mr Edward.'
The servant respectfully shut the door behind him, and then went down to the kitchen shaking his head sadly. The d'Eaths hadn't him as a baby in the forests of the Ramtop mountains. There were some b-urning wagons, corpses, that sort of thing. B-andit attack, apparently. The dwarfs found a sword in the wreckage. He has it now. A very old sword. And it's always sharp.'
'So? The world is full of old swords. And grindstones.'
'This one had been very well hidden in one of the carts, which been able to afford a family torturer for years. For the boy's sake he'd just have to do the best he could with a kitchen knife.The visitors waited for the host to speak, but he didn't seem about to do so, although it was sometimes hard to tell with Edward. When he was excited, he suffered not so much from a speech impediment as from misplaced pauses, as if his brain were temporarily putting his mouth on hold.Eventually, one of the audience said: 'Very well. So what is your point?''You've seen the likeness. Isn't it ob-vious?''Oh, come now—'Edward d'Eath pulled a leather case towards him and began undoing the thongs.'But, but the boy was adopted by Discworld dwarfs. They found

Friday, April 24, 2009

John Constable Salisbury Cathedral

John Constable Salisbury CathedralJohn Constable Salisbury Cathedral from the MeadowsJohn Constable Hadleigh CastleJohn Constable Flatford Mill
that’ll be another iron nail in your coffin. And I’d
be a little bit sorry about that, ‘cos you know I’ve always had
a soft spot for you. But I’ve got kiddies, y’see, and they don’t
hide under the stairs because they’re frit of the thunder, and
255
Terry Pratchett
they don’t put milk out for the elves, and they don’t hurry home because of the night, and before we go back to them dark old Nanny Ogg nudged Casanunda.
“Go on, answer the nice gentleman.”
Casanunda swallowed.
“Blimey,” he said, “you don’t half look like your picture.”
In a narrow little valley a few miles away a party of elves had found a nest ways /’// see you nailed.”The words sliced through the air.The homed man stood up. And further up. His antlers touched the roof.Casanunda’s mouth dropped open.“So you see,” said Nanny, subsiding, “not today. One day, maybe. You just stay down here and sweat it out ‘til One Day. But not today.”“I... will decide.”“Very good. You decide. And I’ll be getting along.”The homed man looked down at Casanunda.“What are you staring at, dwarf?”

Wednesday, April 22, 2009

Edward Hopper Bridle Path

Edward Hopper Bridle PathAmedeo Modigliani LandscapeAlphonse Maria Mucha The Judgement of ParisAlphonse Maria Mucha Savonnerie de Bagnolet
.”
Nanny Ogg wandered off, dreamily.
Granny Weatherwax turned—
l there should have been violins. The murmur of the crowd should have faded away, and the crowd itself should have parted in a quite natural movement to leave an empty path between her and Ridcully

There should have been violins. There should have been something.
There shouldn’t have been the Librarian accidentally knuckling her on the toe on his way to the buffet, but this, in fact, there was.
She hardly noticed.
“Esme?” said Ridcully
“Mustrum?” saidThe Bursar, who was currently on the median point of his cycle, tapped Ridcully on the shoulder.
“I say, Archchancellor, these quails’ eggs are amazingly
go-“
“DROP DEAD. Mr. Stibbons, fish out the frog pills and keep knives away from him, please.”
The gazes locked again.
“Well, well,” said Granny, after a year or so. Granny Weatherwax.Nanny Ogg bustled up.“Esme, I saw Millie Chillum and she said—“Granny Weatherwax’s vicious elbow jab winded her.Nanny took in the scene.“Ah,” she said, “I’ll just, I’ll just... I’ll just go away, then.”The gazes locked again.The Librarian knuckled past again with an entire display of fruit.Granny Weatherwax paid him no heed.

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Cao Yong MY BALCONY

Cao Yong MY BALCONYCao Yong LILY PONDCao Yong KOI POND
the question. If kings went round putting their own food on their own plate, the whole system of monarchy would come crashing down.
Unfortunately, thisof vegetarianism.
The traditional palace cuisine was heavy in artery-clogging
dishes so full of saturated fats that they oozed out in great
wobbly globules. Vegetables existed as things to soak up
spare gravy, and were generally boiled to a uniform shade of
yellow in any case. Magrat had tried explaining things to
Mrs. Scorbic the cook, but the woman’s three chins wobbled meant that service had to be by means of Mr. Spriggins the butler, who had a bad memory, a nervous twitch and a rubber knee, and a sort of medieval elevator system that connected with the kitchen and sounded like the rattle of a tumbril. The elevator shaft was a kind of heat sink. Hot food was cold by the time it arrived. Cold food got colder. No one knew what would happen to ice cream, but it would probably involve some rewriting of the laws of thermodynamics.Also, the cook couldn’t get the hang

Monday, April 20, 2009

Fabian Perez Waiting For the Romance to Come Back II

Fabian Perez Waiting For the Romance to Come Back IIFabian Perez VeniceFabian Perez For a Better Life III
Insert Tabbe A into Slotte B. Can’t find slotte B.”
“These’re like saddlebags. I’m not wearing these. And this thing?”
“A ruff, m’m. Um. They’re all the rage in Sto Helit, my brother says.”
“You mean they make people angry? And what’s this?”
“Brocade, I think.”
“It’s like cardboard. Do I have to wear this sort of thing everyday?”
“Don’t know, I’m sure, m’m.”
“But Verence Millie had gone bright red.
“I mean, I mean, I mean, queens has got to be ladylike,” she managed. “The king got books about it. Etti-quetty and stuff.”
Magrat surveyed herself critically in the mirror.
“It really suits you, your soon-going-to-be-majesty,” said Millie.
Magrat turned this way and that.just trots around in leather gaiters and an old jacket!”“Ah, but you’re queen. Queens can’t do that sort ofthing. Everyone knows that, m’m. It’s all right for kingsto go wandering around with their arse half out theirtrous—“She rammed her hand over her mouth.“It’s all right,” said Magrat. “I’m sure even kings have . .. tops to their legs just like everyone else. Just go on with what you were saying.”

Friday, April 17, 2009

Edward Hopper Ryder's House

Edward Hopper Ryder's HouseEdward Hopper Railroad TrainEdward Hopper New York Office
they spoke, they spoke in unison, their voices drifting ahead or trailing behind the others, as always
.happens when a group of people are trying to faithfully repeat something they've been told to say.
Om was in the throng, standing right behind the Tsortean God of Thunder with a faraway expression on his face. It was noticeable, if only to Brutha, that the Thunder God's right arm disappeared up behind his own back in a way that, if such a thing could be imagined, would suggest that someone was twisting it to the edge of pain.
What the gods "Good. It's about time we had one."
""And an Ephebian!"
"Good. You can think up a better way of ruling the country. Priests shouldn't do it. They can't think about it properly. Nor can soldiers."
"Thank you," said Simony.said was heard by each combatant in his own language, and according to his own understanding. It boiled down to:I. This is Not a Game.II. Here and Now, You are Alive. And then it was over. "You'd make a good bishop," said Brutha."Me?" said Didactylos. "I'm a philosopher!"

Thursday, April 16, 2009

Tamara de Lempicka Saint Moritz

Tamara de Lempicka Saint MoritzTamara de Lempicka PrintempsTamara de Lempicka Portrait of Ira
another barn. Urn was seeing a lot of barns.
They'd started with a cart, and invested a lot of time in reducing its weight as much as possible. Gearing had been a problem. He'd been doing a lot of thinking about gears. The ball wanted to spin much faster than the wheels wanted to turn. That was probably a metaphor for something or other.
"And I can't get it to go backward," he said.
"Don't worry," said Urn scratched his head. "Okay. The answer isn't a little reptile in a shell, is it? Because you know I know that."
"I mean a shield tortoise. When you're attacking a fortress or a wall, and the enemy is dropping everything he's got on you, every man holds his shield overhead so that it . . . kind of . . . slots into all the shields around it. Can take a lot of weight."
"Overlapping," murmured Urn.
"Like scales," said Simony.Simony. "It won't have to go backward. What about armor?"Urn waved a distracted hand around his workshop."This is a village forge!" he said. "This thing is twenty feet long! Zacharos can't make plates bigger than a few feet across. I've tried nailing them on a framework, but it just collapses under the weight."Simony looked at the skeleton of the steam car and the pile of plates stacked beside it."Ever been in a battle, Urn?" he said."No. I've got flat feet. And I'm not very strong.""Do you know what a tortoise is?"
Urn looked reflectively at the cart.

Wednesday, April 15, 2009

Paul Cezanne Jas de Bouffan the Pool

Paul Cezanne Jas de Bouffan the PoolPaul Cezanne House of Pere LacroixPaul Cezanne Flowers in a Blue Vase
fatigue of having to call a slave every time they wanted a page turned. Each one lay in its own pigeonhole, though. Books shouldn't be kept too close together, otherwise they interact in strange and unforeseeable ways.
Sunbeams lanced through the shadows, as palpable as pillars in the dusty air.
Although it was the least of the wonders in the Library, Brutha couldn't help noticing a strange construction in the aisles. . "I don't put any oil in it."
"A lantern that doesn't shine for a man that doesn't see?"
"Yeah. Works perfectly. And of course it's very philosophical."
"And you live in a barrel."
"Very fashionable, living in a barrel," said Didactylos, walking forward briskly, his fingers only occasionally touching the raised patterns on the plank. "Most of the philosophers do it. It shows contempt and disdain for worldly things. Mind you, Legibus has got a sauna in his. It's amazing the kind of things you can think of in it, he says."
Brutha looked around. Scrolls protruded from their racks like cuckoos piping the hour.
"It's all so . . . I never met a philosopher before I came Wooden laths had been fixed between the rows of stone shelves about two meters from the floor, so that they supported a wider plank of no apparent use whatsoever. Its underside had been decorated with rough wooden shapes."The Library," announced Didactylos.He reached up. His fingers gently brushed the plank over his head.It dawned on Brutha."You're blind aren't you?" he said."That's right.""But you carry a lantern?""It's all right," said Didactylos

Monday, April 13, 2009

Leonardo da Vinci Annunciation

Leonardo da Vinci AnnunciationThomas Kinkade Seaside VillageThomas Kinkade Bridge of Hope
About fifty miles away and several thousand feet up, Conina at last managed to control her stolen horse and brought it cold as possible.
'Bit late in the year,' said Nijel. He glanced downwards, and then immediately closed his eyes.
Creosote watched in delighted astonishment. 'Is that how it happens?' he said. 'I've only heard about it in stories. I thought it sprouted out of the ground somehow. Bit like mushrooms, I thought.'
'Those clouds aren't right,' said Conina.to a gentle trot on the empty air, displaying some of the most determined nonchalance the Disc had ever seen.'Snow?' she said.Clouds were roaring soundlessly from the direction of the Hub. They were fat and heavy and shouldn't be moving so fast. Blizzards trailed beneath them, covering the landscape like a sheet.It didn't look like the kind of snow that whispers down gently in the pit of the night and in the morning turns the landscape into a glittering wonderland of uncommon and ethereal beauty. It looked like the kind of snow that intends to make the world as bloody

Friday, April 10, 2009

Joaquin Sorolla y Bastida Valencia's Port

Joaquin Sorolla y Bastida Valencia's PortJoaquin Sorolla y Bastida The Pink RobeJoaquin Sorolla y Bastida Port of Valencia
Abrim and the rival wizard were surrounded by a corona of randomised magic, and it was evidently having no effect on Wizards didn't kill ordinary people because a) they seldom noticed them and b) it wasn't considered sport­ing and c) besides, who'd do all the cooking and grow­ing food and things. And killing a brother wizard with magic was well-nigh impossible on account of the layers of protective Abrim. Rincewind drifted back into the land of the living just in time to see the man reach out and grab the wizard by his tasteless collar.'You cannot defeat me,' he said in the hat's voice. 'I have had two thousand years of harnessing power to my own ends. l can draw my power from your power. Yeld to me or you won't even have time to regret it.'The wizard struggled and, unfortunately, let pride win over caution.'Never!' he said.'Die,' suggested Abrim.Rincewind had seen many strange things in his life, most of them with extreme reluctance, but he had never seen anyone actually killed by magic.

Thursday, April 9, 2009

Vincent van Gogh On the Outskirts of Paris

Vincent van Gogh On the Outskirts of ParisVincent van Gogh Ladies of ArlesSalvador Dali The Ecumenical Council
'You've got nothing?'
Conina shifted slightly to keep as many of the men as possible in her field of vision.
'I've got a couple of hairgrips,' she said out of the corner of her mouth.
'Any good?'
'Don't know. Never tried.'
'You got us into this!'
'Relax. I think they'll just take us prisoner.'
'Oh, that's fine for you to say. You're not marked down as this week's special offer.'
The There was a sudden blur and the nearest man col­lapsed in a small gurgling heap. Then Conina's elbows went back and into the stomachs of the men behind her. Her left hand rebounded past Rincewind's ear with a noise like tearing silk and felled the man behind him. The fifth made a run for it and was brought down by a flying tackle, hitting his head heavily on the wall.Luggage snapped its lid once or twice, a little uncertain about things. One of the men gingerly extended his sword and prodded Rincewind in the small of the back.'They want to take us somewhere, see?' said Conina. She gritted her teeth. 'Oh, no,' she muttered.'What's the matter now?''I can't do it!''What?'Conina put her head in her hands. 'I can't let myself be taken prisoner without a fight! I can feel a thousand barbarian ancestors accusing me of betrayal!' she hissed urgently.'Pull the other one.''No, really. This won't take a minute.'
Conina rolled off him and sat up, panting, her eyes

Wednesday, April 8, 2009

Eduard Manet Flowers In A Crystal Vase

Eduard Manet Flowers In A Crystal VaseEduard Manet Bouquet Of VioletsEduard Manet Spring
Spelter padded over to a dark oak cabinet and pulled out a couple of glasses, which he filled from the water jug.
'I tend to be best at sherry this time of day,' he said, and spread his hands over the glasses. 'Say, um, the word - sweet or dry?'
'Um, no,' said to be moving, too. When Rincewind looked closer he could see that it was because it was covered with ants.
These weren't ordinary ants. Centuries of magical leakage into the walls of the University had done strange things to them. Some of them were pulling very small carts, some of them were riding beetles, but all of them were leaving the University as quickly as possible. The grass on the Rincewind. 'Perhaps you're right. I think I'll go and have a bit of rest.''Good idea.'Rincewind wandered down the chilly stone passages. Occasionally he'd touch the wall and appear to be listening, and then he'd shake his head.As he crossed the quadrangle again he saw a herd of mice swarm over a balcony and scamper towards the river. The ground they were running over seemed

Tuesday, April 7, 2009

Thomas Kinkade Christmas Moonlight

Thomas Kinkade Christmas MoonlightThomas Kinkade Christmas EveningThomas Kinkade Abundant Harvest
hours of the night drained slowly away. They looked at one another.
Spigot the fiddler glanced down at the jewel.
It was still there.
The drummer tried to massage some life back into his wrists.
Spigot stared helplessly at the exhausted dancers.
‘Well, then . . .I SUSPECT THERE’S NO SUCH THING.
‘You know,’ said Miss Flitworth, ‘I’ve been wondering all evening how it’s going to happen. How you’re going to do it. I mean, people have to die of something, don’t they? I thought maybe it was going to be of exhaustion, but I’ve never felt better. I’ve had the time of my life and I’m not even out of breath. In fact it’s been ’ he said, and raised the fiddle one more time.Miss Flitworth and her companion listened from the mists that were threading around the field in the dawn light.Death recognised the slow, insistent beat. It made him think of wooden figures, whirling through Time until the spring unwound.I DON’T KNOW THAT ONE.‘It’s the last waltz.’

Monday, April 6, 2009

James Jacques Joseph Tissot Too Early

James Jacques Joseph Tissot Too EarlyHenri Rousseau Woman Walking in an Exotic ForestHenri Rousseau warHenri Rousseau Two Monkeys in the Jungle
don’t think he’s trying to sell anything, Mr Poons.’
‘It’s that bad? Then we’re probably in lots of trouble.’ Blue light shone out from one of the holes in the heap. Bits were bearing down on him.
‘We - I mean, Ve vould have been here sooner, only -‘
‘- I couldn’t find the blasted collar stud,’ muttered Arthur, looking hot and flustered. He was wearing a collapsible opera hat, which was fine on the collapsible part but regrettably lacking in hatness, so that Arthur appeared to be looking at the world from under a concertina.
‘Oh, hallo,’ said Windle. There was something dreadfully fascinating about the Winkings’ dedication to accurate vampirism. ‘Unt who iss the yunk laty?’ said Doreen, beaming at Ludmilla.
‘Pardon?’ said Windle.
‘Vot?’of broken trolley tinkled to the ground like metal leaves.Windle bent down stiffly and picked up a pointy hat. It was battered and had been run over by a lot of trolleys, but it was still recognisable as something that by rights should be on someone’s head. ‘There’s wizards in there,’ he said.Silver light glittered off the metal. It moved like oil. Windle reached out and a fat spark jumped across and grounded itself on his fingers.‘Hmm,’ he said. ‘Lot of potential, too -‘Then he heard the cry of the vampires.He turned. The Notfaroutoes
‘Doreen - I mean, the Countess asked who she is,’ Arthur

Friday, April 3, 2009

George Frederick Watts Charity

George Frederick Watts CharityFrancisco de Goya Nude MajaFrancisco de Goya Clothed Maja
Well, all right. Ahem. The correct balance of materials, correctly layered according to -‘ ‘There goes the door,’ said the Lecturer in Recent Runes, lumbering towards the rest of them.
The mound of furniture started to move forward.
The ‘Stinging nettles are always useful,’ said Modo, behind him. ‘They add iron. And comfrey, well, you can never get enough comfrey. For the minerals, you know. Myself, I’ve always reckoned that a small quantity of wild yarrow -‘ The wizards peered over the top of an overturned table. The heap had stopped moving.
‘Is it just me, or is it getting bigger?’ said the Senior Wrangler.
‘And looking happier,’ said the Dean.Archchancellor stared desperately around the hall, at a loss. Then his eyes were drawn to a familiar, heavy bottle on one of the sideboards. ‘Carbon,’ he said. ‘That’s like charcoal, isn’t it?’‘How should I know? I’m not an alchemist,’ sniffed the Dean.The compost heap emerged from the debris. Steam poured off it. The Archchancellor looked longingly at the bottle of Wow-Wow Sauce. He uncorked it. He took a deep sniff.‘The cooks here just can’t make it properly, you know,’ he said. It’ll be weeks before I can get any more from home.’He tossed the bottle towards the advancing heap.It vanished into the seething mass.

Thursday, April 2, 2009

Henri Rousseau The Dream

Henri Rousseau The DreamPaul Cezanne Mount Sainte VictoirePaul Cezanne Card Players
paperknife was slowly bending.
‘Well?’ said the Patrician.
‘Not us,’ said Ridcully, his voice hollow. The Patrician followed his gaze.
The knife was already curved like a bow.
The Patrician scanned the sheepish crowd until he found Captain Doxie of the City Guard Day Watch.
‘Can’t you do something?’ he said.
‘Er. Like what, sir? The knife? Er. I suppose I could arrest it for being bent.’
Lord to call.
‘You there, One-Man-Bucket?’ she said.
Then she ducked, just in case.
A reedy and petulant voice oozed out of the air.
where have you been I can’t move in here!
Mrs Cake bit her lip. Such a directVetinari threw his hands up in the air.‘So! It’s not magic! It’s not gods! It’s not people! What is it? And who’s going to stop it? Who am I going to call?’Half an hour later the little globe had vanished.No-one noticed. They never do.Mrs Cake knew who she was going reply meant her spirit guide was worried. When he didn’t have anything on his

Wednesday, April 1, 2009

Bill Brauer Harvest Moon

Bill Brauer Harvest MoonBill Brauer Gold DressUnknown Artist Audrey Hepburn pop artPiet Mondrian Tableau IPiet Mondrian Mill in Sunlight
his words like flakes of metal on the edge of a knife.
THERE WILL BE A NEW DEATH.
Albert drew himself up.
‘I really don’t think I could serve a new master,’ he said.
THEN GO embarrassed.
Death took the saddle down from its hook and glanced at Albert, who was suffering a crisis of conscience.
Thousands of years before, Albert had opted to serve Death rather than die. He wasn’t exactly immortal. Real time was forbidden in Death’s realm. There was only the ever-changing now, but it went on for a very long time. He had less than two months of real time left; he hoarded his days like bars of gold.
‘I, er . . .’ he began.’That is -‘BACK INTO THE WORLD. I WILL GIVE YOU MONEY. YOU HAVE BEEN A GOOD SERVANT, ALBERT.‘But if I go back -‘YES, said Death. YOU WILL DIE. In the warm, horsey gloom of the stable, Death’s pale horse looked up from its oats and gave a little whinny of greeting. The horse’s name was Binky. He was a real horse. Death had tried fiery steeds and skeletal horses in the past, and found them impractical, especially the fiery ones, which tended to set light to their own bedding and stand in the middle of it looking