favorite artists: Joseph Mallord William Turner, “The painter of light” (1775-1851)
“You should tell them that indistinctiveness is my forte” — Turner’s reply when hearing that some rich douchebag that purchased one of his paintings complained about it and called it indistinct (Willy’s taking none of your shit)
If you say “old sport” three times in front of your mirror Gatsby will appear and awkwardly hit on your wife
Kate Beaton’s Great Gatsby comics. We went to the movie, which I enjoyed very much…visually it was no Moulin Rouge, in 2D at least, and honestly it was pretty reminiscent of Moulin Rouge all around, but I thought Gatsby had much better control of its two-abusive-love-interests story/message. I don’t know that I will watch it twice though, that whole part towards the end was VERY INTENSE in a good but also unpleasant way. We shall see. Leonardo diCaprio’s performance was magic, OMG. Anyway. WHAT BABY?
Candice Colgan always knew her tiny twins were supermen — but it took a Hollywood film to turn them into Superman.
The boys, now 22 months old, had to fight just to get into this world, so battling the odds is second nature to these Maple Ridge tots.
“They were three months premature, and they only weighed four pounds,” says Colgan, a registered nurse.
“My boys were total warriors — they were little supermen.”
——
“They told us the movie was called ‘Autumn Frost,’ but I did some searching on the Internet and I found out it was really Man of Steel, the new Superman movie.”
And imagine her shock when she showed up, Cruz and Ryder in tow, and ran into heartthrob Russell Crowe.
“I think Russell Crowe is a babe,” swoons Colgan, who through the magic of movies really did have Crowe’s babies for a few glorious days.
“A Beautiful Mind and Gladiator are two of my favourite movies.
“He was so great with my kids, always looking out for them.
“At the end of filming he gave me a kiss, and said, ‘Mommy’s so brave.’”
“The Vinery,” by Thomas Rowlandson.
I’ve got a new History Hoydens post up about Regency greenhouses:
I’d been looking all over for someplace for my hero Ash and my heroine Lydia to have sex. They’re in a betrothal of convenience so they can be alone together without a chaperone, but: it’s wintertime, cold and wet outside; Ash is staying at an inn where she would be recognized; and Lydia’s family home is huge but filled with windows and it’s unpredictable when a servant might pop in or a gardener or visitor wander by outside.
Turns out most early-19th-century greenhouses were stone buildings with windows only on the southern wall, which were shuttered at night…
