Daily OpusEverything I write is freely rebloggable. Just keep the source and tell people about my books :D [Until I decide otherwise, my pronouns are Ze/Hir/Hirself. As in "Ze went to the shops to get hir medication hirself". Thank you for the respect.]
An old and homely grandmother accidentally summons a demon. She mistakes him for her gothic-phase teenage grandson and takes care of him. The demon decides to stay at his new home.
It isn’t uncommon for this particular demon to be summoned—from
exhausting Halloween party pranks in abandoned barns to more legitimate (more
exhausting) ceremonies in forests—but it has to admit, this is the first time
it’s been called forth from its realm into a claustrophobic living room bathed
in the dull orange-pink glow of old glass lamps and a multitude of wide-eyed,
creepy antique porcelain dolls that could give Chucky a run for his money with
all of their silent, seething stares combined. Accompanying those oddities are
tea cup and saucer sets on shelves atop frilly doilies crocheted with the
utmost care, and cross-stitched, colorful ‘Home Sweet Home’s hung across the wood-paneled
walls.
It’s a mistake—a wrong number, per se. No witch it’s ever
known has lived in such an, ah, dated,
home. Furthermore, no practitioner that ever summoned it has been absent, as if
they’d up and ding-dong ditched it. No, it didn’t work that way. Not at all.
Not if they want to survive the encounter.
It hears the clinking of movement in the room adjacent—the kitchen,
going by the pungent, bitter scent of cooled coffee and soggy, sweet sponge
cakes, but more jarring is the smell of blood. It moves—feels something slip
beneath its clawed foot as it does, and sees a crocheted blanket of whites and greys
and deep black yarn, wound intricately, perfectly, into a summoning circle. Its summoning circle. There is a small splash
of bright scarlet and sharp, jagged bits of a broken curio scattered on top,
as if someone had dropped it, attempted to pick it up the pieces and pricked their finger.
It would explain the blood. And it would explain the demon being brought into
this strange place.
As it connects these pieces in its mind, the inhabitant of
the house rounds the corner and exits the kitchen, holding a damp, white dish
towel close to her hand and fumbling with the beaded bifocals hanging from her
neck by a crocheted lanyard before stopping dead in her tracks.
Now, to be fair, the demon wouldn’t ordinarily second guess
being face-to-face with a hunchbacked crone with a beaked nose, beady eyes and
a peculiar lack of teeth, or a spidery shawl and ankle-length black dress, but
there is definitely something amiss here. Especially when the old biddy lets
her spectacles fall slack on her bosom and erupts into a wide, toothy (toothless)
grin, eyes squinting and crinkling from the sheer effort of it.
“Todd! Todd, dear, I didn’t know you were visiting this year!
You didn’t call, you didn’t write—but, oh, I’m so happy you’re here, dear!
Would it have been too much to ask you to ring the doorbell? I almost had a
heart attack. And don’t worry about the blood, here—I had an accident. My favorite
figure toppled off of the table and cleanup didn’t go as expected. But I seem
to recall you are quite into the bloodshed and ‘edgy’ stuff these days, so I
don’t suppose you mind.” She releases a hearty, kind laugh, but it isn’t
mocking, it’s sweet. Grandmotherly. The demon is by no means sentimental or
maudlin, but the kindness, the familiarity, the genuine fondness, does pull a
few dusty old nostalgic heartstrings. “Imagine if it leaves a scar! It’d be a
bit ‘badass,’ as you teenagers say, wouldn’t it?”
She is as blind as a bat without her glasses, it would appear,
because the demon is by no means a ‘Todd’ or a human at all, though humanoid, shrouded
in sleek, black skin and hard spikes and sharp claws. But the demon humors her, if only
because it had been caught off guard.
The old woman smiles still, before turning on her heel and
shuffling into the hallway with a stiff gait revealing a poor hip. “Be a dear
and make some more coffee, would you please? I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
Yes, this is most definitely a mistake. One for the record
books, for certain. For late-night trips to bars and conversations with colleagues,
while others discuss how many souls they’d swindled in exchange for peanuts, or
how many first-borns they’d been pledged for things idiot humans could have
gained without divine intervention. Ugh. Sometimes it all just became so pedantic
that little detours like this were a blessing—happy accidents, as the humans
would say.
That’s why the demon does as asked, and plods slowly into
the kitchen, careful to duck low and avoid the top of the doorframe. That’s why
it gingerly takes the small glass pot and empties it of old, stale coffee and carefully,
so carefully, takes a measuring scoop between its claws and fills the machine
with fresh grounds. It’s as the hot water is percolating that the old woman
returns, her index finger wrapped tight in a series of beige bandages.
“I’m surprised you’re so tall, Todd! I haven’t seen you
since you were at my hip! But your mother mails photos all the time—you do love
wearing all black, don’t you?” She takes a seat at the small round table in the
corner and taps the glass lid of the cake plate with quaking, unsteady, aged hands. “I was starting to think you’d
never visit. Your father and I have
had our disagreements, but…I am glad you’re here, dear. Would you like some
cake?” Before the demon has a chance to decline, she lifts the lid and cuts a
generous slice from the near-complete circle that has scarcely been touched. It
smells of citrus and cream and is, as assumed earlier, soggy, oversaturated
with icing.
It was made for a special occasion, for guests, but it doesn’t
seem this old woman receives much company in this musty, stagnant house that
smells like an antique garage that hadn’t had its dust stirred in years.
Especially not from her absentee grandson, Todd.
The demon waits until the coffee pot is full, and takes two
small mugs from the counter, filling them until steam is frothing over the
rims. Then, and only then, does it accept the cake and sit, with some
difficulty, in a small chair at the small table. It warbles out a polite ‘thank
you,’ but it doesn’t suppose the woman understands. Manners are manners
regardless.
“Oh, dear, I can hardly understand. Your voice has gotten so
deep, just like your grandfather’s was. That, and I do recall you have an affinity
for that gravelly, screaming music. Did your voice get strained? It’s alright,
dear, I’ll do the talking. You just rest up. The coffee will help soothe.”
The demon merely nods—some communication can be understood
without fail—and drinks the coffee and eats the cake with a too-small fork. It’s
ordinary, mushy, but delicious because of the intent behind it and the love
that must have gone into its creation.
“I hope you enjoyed all of the presents I sent you. You
never write back—but I am aware most people use that fancy E-mail these days. I
just can’t wrap my head around it. I do wish your mom and dad would visit sometime.
I know of a wonderful little café down the street we can go to. I haven’t been; I wanted to visit it with Charles, before he…well.” She falls silent in her
rambling, staring into her coffee with a small, melancholy smile. “I can’t
believe it’s been ten years. You never had the chance to meet him. But never mind
that.” Suddenly, and with surprising speed that has the demon concerned for her well being, she moves to her feet, bracing her hands on the edge of the table. “I may as
well give you your birthday present, since you’re here. What timing! I only
finished it this morning. I’ll be right back.”
When she returns, the white, grey and black crocheted work with the summoning
circle is bundled in her arms.
“I found these designs in an occult book I borrowed from the
library. I thought you’d like them on a nice, warm blanket to fight off the
winter chill—I hope you do like it.” With gentle hands, she spreads the blanket
over the demon’s broad, spiky back like a shawl, smoothing it over craggy shoulders
and patting its arms affectionately. “Happy birthday, Todd, dear.”
Well, that settles it. Whoever, wherever, Todd is, he’s
clearly missing out. The demon will just have to be her grandson from now on.
this is so sweet. it made me want to hug someone.
i had to
I WOULD WATCH SIX SEASONS AND A MOVIE
Okay but she takes him to the little cafe and all of the people in her town are like “What is that thing, what the hell, Anette?” and she’s like “Don’t you remember my grandson Todd?” and the entire town just has to play along because no one will tell little old Nettie that her grandson is an actual demon because this is the happiest she’s been since her husband died.
Bonus: In season 4 she makes him run for mayor and he wins
I just want to watch ‘Todd’ help her with groceries, and help her with cooking, and help her clean up the dust around the house and air it out, and fill it with spring flowers because Anette mentioned she loved hyacinth and daffodils.
Over the seasons her eyesight worsens, so ‘Todd’ brings a hellhound into the house to act as her seeing eye dog, and people in town are kinda terrified of this massive black brute with fur that drips like thick oil, and a mouth that can open all the way back to its chest, but ‘Honey’ likes her hard candies, and doesn’t get oil on the carpet, and when ‘Todd’ has to go back to Hell for errands, Honey will snuggle up to Anette and rest his giant head on her lap, and whuff at her pockets for butterscotch.
Anette never gives ‘Todd’ her soul, but she gives him her heart
In season six, Anette gets sick. She spends most of the season bedridden and it becomes obvious by about midway through the season that she’s not going to make it to the end of the season. Todd spends the season travelling back and forth between the human realm and his home plane, trying hard to find something, anything that will help Anette get better, to prolong her life. He’s tried getting her to sell him her soul, but she’s just laughed, told him that he shouldn’t talk like that.
With only a few episodes left in the season Anette passes away, Todd is by her side. When the reaper comes for her Todd asks about the fate of her soul. In a dispassionate voice the reaper informs Todd that Anette spent the last few years of her life cavorting with creatures of darkness, that there can be only one fate for her. Todd refuses to accept this and he fights the reaper, eventually injuring the creature and driving it off. Knowing that Anette cannot stay in the Human Realm, and refusing to allow her spirit to be taken by another reaper, so he takes her soul in his arms. He’s done this before, when mortals have sold themselves to him. This time the soul cradled against his chest does not snuggle and fight. This time the soul held tight against him reaches out, pats him on the cheek tells him he was a good boy, and so handsome, just like his grandfather.
Todd takes Anette back to the demon realm, holding her tight against him as he travels across the bleak and forebidding landscape; such a sharp contrast to the rosy warmth of Anette’s home. Eventually, in a far corner of his home plane, Todd finds what he is looking for. It is a place where other demons do not tread; a large boulder cracked and broken, with a gap just barely large enough for Todd to fit through. This crack, of all things, gives him pause, but Anette’s soul makes a comment about needing to get home in time to feed Honey, and Todd forces himself to pass through it. He travels in darkness for a while, before he emerges into into a light so bright that it’s blinding. His eyes adjust slowly, and he finds himself face to face with two creatures, each of them at least twice his size one of them has six wings and the head of a lion, one of them is an amorphous creature within several rings. The lion-headed one snarls at Todd, and demands that he turn back, that he has no business here.
Todd looks down, holding Anette’s soul against his chest, he takes a deep breath, and speaks a single word, “Please.”
The two larger beings are taken aback by this. They are too used to Todd’s kind being belligerent, they consult with each other, they argue. The amorphous one seems to want to be lenient, the lion-headed one insists on being stricter. While they’re arguing Todd sneaks by them and runs as fast as he can, deeper into the brightly lit expanse. The path on which he travels begins to slope upwards, and eventually becomes a staircase. It becomes evident that each step further up the stair is more and more difficult for Todd, that it’s physically paining him to climb these stairs, but he keeps going.
They dedicate a full episode to this climb; interspersing the climb with scenes they weren’t able to show in previous seasons, Anette and Honey coming to visit Todd in the Mayor’s office, Anette and Todd playing bingo together for the first time, Anette and Todd watching their stories together in the mid afternoon, Anette falling asleep in her chair and Todd gently carrying her to bed. Anette making Todd lemonade in the summer while he’s up on the roof fixing that leak and cleaning out the rain gutters. Eventually Todd reaches the top, and all but collapses, he falls to a knee and for the first time his grip on Anette’s soul slips, and she falls away from him. Landing on the ground.
He reaches out for her, but someone gets there first. Another hand reaches out, and helps this elderly woman off the ground, helps her get to her feet. Anette gasps, it’s Charles. The pair of them throw their arms around each other. Anette tells Charles that she’s missed him so much, and she has so much to tell him. Charles nods. Todd watches a soft smile on his face. A delicate hand touches Todd’s shoulder, and pulls him easily to his feet. A figure; we never see exactly what it looks like, leans down, whispering in Todd’s ear that he’s done well, and that Anette will be well taken care of here. That she will spend an eternity with her loved ones. Todd looks back over to her, she’s surrounded by a sea of people. Todd nods, and smiles. The figure behind him tells him that while he has done good in bringing Anette here, this is not his place, and he must leave. Todd nods, he knew this would be the case.
Todd gets about six steps down the stairway before he is stopped by someone grabbing his shoulder again. He turns around, and Anette is standing behind him. She gives him a big hug and leads him back up the stairs, he should stay, she says. Get to know the family. Todd tries to tell her that he can’t stay, but she won’t hear it. She leads him up into the crowd of people and begins introducing him to long dead relatives of hers, all of whom give him skeptical looks when she introduces him as her grandson.
The mysterious figure appears next to Todd again and tells him once more he must leave, Todd opens his mouth to answer but Anette cuts him off. Nonsense, she tells the figure. IF she’s gonna stay here forever her grandson will be welcome to visit her. She and the figure stare at each other for a moment. The figure eventually sighs and looks away, the figure asks Todd if she’s always like this. Todd just shrugs and smiles, allowing Anette to lead him through a pair of pearly gates, she’s already talking about how much cake they’ll need to feed all of these relatives.
demon: you’re not blind here – but you’re not surprised. when…?
anette: oh, toddy, don’t be silly, my biological grandson’s not twelve feet tall and doesn’t scorch the furniture when he sneezes. i’ve known for ages.
demon: then why?
anette: you wouldn’t have stayed if you weren’t lonely too.
demon: you… you don’t have to keep calling me your grandson.
anette: nonsense! adopted children are just as real. now quit sniffling, you silly boy, and let’s go bake a cake. honey, heel!
it’s always amazing to watch adults discover how much changes when they don’t treat their perspective as the default human experience.
example:
it’s been well-documented for a long time that urban spaces are more
dangerous for kids than they are for adults. but common wisdom has
generally held that that’s just the way things are because kids are
inherently vulnerable. and because policymakers keep operating under the assumption that there’s nothing that can be done about kids being less safe in cities because that’s just how kids are, the danger they face in public spaces like
streets and parks has been used as an excuse for marginalizing and regulating them out of
those spaces.
(by the same people who then complain about kids being inside playing video games, I’d imagine.)
thing is, there’s no real evidence to suggest that kids are inescapably less safe in urban spaces. the causality goes the other way: urban spaces are safer for adults because they are designed for adults, by adults, with an adult perspective and experience in mind.
the city of Oslo, Norway recently started a campaign to take a new perspective on urban planning. quite literally a new perspective: they started looking at the city from 95 centimeters off the ground - the height of the average three-year-old. one of the first things they found was that, from that height, there were a lot of hedges blocking the view of roads from sidewalks. in other words, adults could see traffic, but kids couldn’t.
pop quiz: what does not being able to see a car coming do to the safety of pedestrians? the city of Oslo was literally designed to make it more dangerous for kids to cross the street. and no one realized it until they took the laughably small but simultaneously really significant step of…lowering their eye level by a couple of feet.
so Oslo started trimming all its decorative roadside vegetation down. and what was the first result they saw? kids in Oslo are walking to school more, because it’s safer to do it now. and that, as it turns out, reduces traffic around schools, making it even safer to walk to school.
so yeah. this is the kind of important real-life impact all that silly social justice nonsense of recognizing adultism as a massive structural problem can have. stop ignoring 1/3 of the population when you’re deciding what the world should look like and the world gets better a little bit at a time.
If you go off of how disco is referenced in pop culture today, it’s easy to think that disco was an insignificant fad that had no depth and played obnoxious, repetitive music. I want to tell you all the ways that that is wrong, and show how totally radical and significant disco actually was, especially for women, people of color, and gays. I also want to address the reason that disco isn’t better appreciated today. Get ready to get excited, empowered, mad, and addicted to the boogie.
Music:
In the early 70s, music was changing a lot. The 60s were dominated by Rock n’ Roll, Folk, and Soul. The songs that came out of those genres were designed to be heard live in a concert, either by the artist themselves or a cover band. That means that to listen to the music as it was intended, you have to go out on a specific night that your band is playing, and if you want to dance, it’ll be for maybe an hour or less, depending how long the performers’ set is.
Disco came out of the urban black populations of cities like Philadelphia, New York, and Detroit. Instead of being played live by bands, it was played on vinyl discs, which could be played indefinitely. As such, the music became focused on keeping people dancing all night. The upbeat rhythm that some people criticize disco for as sounding all the same is actually very intentional: it’s a good, danceable rhythm that is consistent between songs, so instead of having dead noise as you wait for the next song to start, you can just fade out of one song and into the other without stopping the dancing.
What’s more, since it wasn’t live, you could go to a discotheque any night of the week and know that there would be good music to dance to. This totally changed the culture of nightlife. Instead of going out on a pre-scheduled date with your sweetheart, now you could just get together with your friends at the last minute and head to the disco! Many women at the time found this liberating, because they were no longer tied to a man on a date, but hanging out with their girlfriends. Some even said that disco was better than sex.
Shifting Sexuality:
That being said, disco and sexuality were closely linked. Sure, singing about sexual desire was nothing new, but the approach as well as the message were pretty different:
Rock n’ Roll’s focus on fulfilling one’s own sexual satisfaction, without much concern for the (presumed female) partner was being slowly replaced by the more sensual, affectionate attitude presented in soul. Take for example a contrast of the Rolling Stones’ “Satisfaction” and Marvin Gaye’s “Let’s Get it On”:
“Satisfaction” (1965)
“And I’m tryin’ to make some girl, who tells me Baby, better come back maybe next week Can’t you see I’m on a losing streak”
:Let’s Get it On” (1973)
“Don’t you know how sweet and wonderful life can be? I’m askin’ you baby to get it on with me, oh oh I ain’t gonna worry, I ain’t gonna push I won’t push you baby“
Not only was there a shift in message, but there was a huge shift in who was singing about sexual desire. White women, black men, and especially black women dominated the charts with catchy songs about love, dance, and sexual attraction.
Donna Summer was a black woman from Boston who became known as the “Queen of Disco,” as she sold over 140 million records and earned 32 hit singles throughout her career. Her songs made it clear that she wouldn’t let anyone define her sexuality for her. On one occasion, her assistant was accosted by a cop because she was wearing sexy clothes and he thought she was a “streetwalker.” She convinced him that she wasn’t, but when Summer heard the story she asked, “Well, what would’ve been so bad if she was?” This prompted her song, “Bad Girls,” in which she is unapologetically sexy and emphasizes that sex workers are “Like everybody else, they come from near and far,” ordinary people who are trying to make money.
My favorite example of black women owning their sexuality is in the music video of “It’s Raining Men,” by the Weather Girls. The group consisted of two overweight black women, Izora Armstead and Martha Wash, who in a hilariously low-budget video sing about how there’s no need to be lonely when you’re single, you’ve got many men to choose from for your sexual satisfaction:
“I’m gonna go out to run and let myself get Absolutely soaking wet It’s raining men, hallelujah”
Gays and Disco
Disco wasn’t just a place of open sexuality for straight people, it also was huge for the growing gay community. Underground gay discos began as early as 1969, but they became so popular that soon they became regular stops for straight people as well. This led to what the Village Voice refers to as the “mainstreaming of gay”:
“…the straight party world seemed to acknowledge gays as the indispensable ingredient of disco…
Not only did gay men confer instant cachet on straights, but the very ethos of the disco era–the quest for perpetual pleasure–seemed to have pansexual applications. Albert Goldman, a chronicler of disco during the ‘70s, observed that “what differentiates discomania from most of its predecessors is its overt tendency to spill over into orgy, as it has done already in the gay world. All disco is implicitly orgy.” In the course of this overlap, disco became the vector by which gay liberation’s sexual mores penetrated the straight world.
The rise of disco had brought with it the mainstreaming of gay, possibly the opening salvo in the queering of America. Yet it wasn’t homosexuality per se that disco ushered in but a sustained exploration of the sexual self, including the femme side of the male persona. With its fluid structure of crests and flows, disco music allowed men to imagine the wavelike and recurrent quality of the female orgasm, and to enter a world of psychic plenitude where the spartan injunctions of machismo had been overthrown. Needless to say, this world turned upside down made another, discophobic America very nervous.”
Within 10 years of Stonewall, gays reached unprecedented visibility both on the dancefloor and the records themselves. One of the best known openly gay music groups of disco was Village People, who always wore these costumes:
Their message was that gays are everywhere: we are ordinary people, who do ordinary jobs, like construction or military service. (And, before you get upset by the war bonnet, that’s Felipe Rose, who is actually Native American)
As the Village Voice article suggests, the presence of gays in disco challenged mainstream masculinity. In their song “Macho Man,” Village People lift weights and show off their large muscles, while also being flamboyantly gay, which at the time was stereotyped as being very feminine.
You’re probably familiar with their song “YMCA,” but you may not know just how gay it is. Answer: very gay. The song addresses the experience of young gay men who wanted to escape the homophobia and isolation of their small towns and move to the big city. With locations in every city, the YMCA was a cheap resource for temporary housing and meals, and it soon saw an abundance of young gay men. This was huge for three reasons: 1) the individual realized that he wasn’t the only one with these kinds of feelings and began feeling much more validated/justified in his sexuality, 2) he was able to make friends and form a proud, gay community, and 3) he was surrounded by horny, sexually available potential partners!
Let’s take a look at some of the lyrics of YMCA:
Young man, there’s no need to feel down. I said, young man, pick yourself off the ground. I said, young man, ‘cause you’re in a new town There’s no need to be unhappy.
Young man, there’s a place you can go. I said, young man, when you’re short on your dough. You can stay there, and I’m sure you will find Many ways to have a good time. […]
They have everything for you men to enjoy, You can hang out with all the boys… […]
Young man, I was once in your shoes. I said, I was down and out with the blues. I felt no man cared if I were alive. I felt the whole world was so jive…
That’s when someone came up to me, And said, young man, take a walk up the street. There’s a place there called the Y.M.C.A. They can start you back on your way.
Like I said, very gay.
Discophobia
Unfortunately, as I’m sure you can guess, all of this increased visibility and sexual autonomy by women, people of color, and gays was not universally well-received by mainstream culture, and a new movement began that spread quickly like an anti-disco inferno.
This movement was called, and I’m not joking, “Disco Sucks.” It was founded by this guy:
This is Steve Dahl. He was a Rock n Roll DJ for a radio station before he was fired when his station transitioned to disco, and as a result he made it his life’s mission to to launch a “war on disco.” When he got a new job at a different radio, he spent all of his time lambasting disco, criticizing it for all sounding the same and having no depth.
Dahl became widely popular, to the point that the Chicago White Sox invited him to come entertain the crowd during one of their games. On July 12, 1979, White Sox fans paid $.99 if they brought a disco record that could be destroyed as a part of Dahl’s “Disco Demolition Night.” A video of the event can be found here. The event quickly went out of control, as the explosions destroyed part of left field, the crowd ran onto the field, and many people stole bases (no pun intended) and even home plate.
Why did people become so enraged at disco? The messages in the songs were pretty innocuous (at least on the surface level), mostly dealing with love, attraction, and hopes for world peace. Perhaps a key to understanding it is to look at the demographics of the anti-disco movement, namely: young, straight, white men. Maybe some of them really were just tired of disco music, but for a large number of people disco threatened the cultural landscape that they were familiar with and which favored them. Instead of the Rolling Stones, they were now hearing the Weather Girls, Village People, and Earth, Wind & Fire.
Disco saw a sharp, painful decline after Disco Demolition Night. it was pretty much gone by 1981.
To highlight the difference: in 1979, the top 10 Billboard Hits had 6 songs by black women, two songs by black men and women, and one song by an openly gay band, leaving only three songs that were sung by straight white men. Only three years later in 1982, the top 10 only had 2 songs by white women, and one collaboration between Paul McCartney and Stevie Wonder. The other 7 songs were all straight white men. Whereas in 1978 the charts were “majority minority,” by 1982 it had flipped and being straight, white, and male was once again the default. Some even argue that mainstream music hasn’t been as diverse as disco was since.
tl;dr Disco was a musical movement that gave unprecedented visibility to minority groups, especially women, black people, and gays, giving them a voice and a space to own, explore, and be proud of their sexuality.
Lifelike reconstruction of a Neanderthal man - Neanderthal museum, Mettmann, Germany
Well you see, Garry, you really can’t top napped obsidian. I know the anatomically modern humans are doing some interesting things with bone, but what you got here is durability, a sleek, user-serviceable design, and an edge that just won’t quit.
They’re all phenomenal. If you have five minutes, please watch each of them. Warning: some hit HARD.
Mary Blair (1911-1978)
Worked for Ub Iwerks, MGM, and eventually Disney. Known for creating incredibly vibrant watercolors, which clashed with the studio aesthetic at the time. Disney eventually let her loose, and her aesthetic can be strongly seen in Cinderella, Peter Pan, and especially Alice in Wonderland.
Evelyn Lambart (1914-1999)
Hearing-impaired Canadian animator who worked with Norman McLaren on several pieces that the Canadian government would later declare masterworks. She directed her own films, making her one of the first women in animation to take the director’s chair. She was known for scratching up film stock to create “jazz” like patterns, the sort of thing you’d later see in Fantasia,Donald in Mathmagic Land, and the like.
Lotte Reininger (1899-1981)
German director who created the technique of silhouette animation, preceding Disney by 10 years. Started out making titles for movies and moved on to make her own animated feature, The Adventures of Prince Achmed, in 1926!As for the rest of her career, well - watch the short.
Claire Parker (1906-1981)
Created the “pinscreen” animation technique, where 240,000 tiny metal rods were manually manipulated in and out of a board in order to create an animation – think tweaking pixels by hand. She and she alone owned the patent on it.
Alison de Vere (1927-2001)
One of the first women to work in British animation, and was design director for The Yellow Submarine. She went on to create many animated shorts at a commercial studio, winning prizes for virtually almost every single one of them. She is often credited as Britain’s first female animation auteur.
Thirty-eight hundred years ago, on the hot river plains of what is now southern Iraq, a Babylonian student did a bit of schoolwork that changed our understanding of ancient mathematics. The student scooped up a palm-sized clump of wet clay, formed a disc about the size and shape of a hamburger, and let it dry down a bit in the sun. On the surface of the moist clay the student drew a diagram that showed the people of the Old Babylonian Period (1,900–1,700 B.C.E.) fully understood the principles of the “Pythagorean Theorem” 1300 years before Greek geometer Pythagoras was born, and were also capable of calculating the square root of two to six decimal places.
Today, thanks to the Internet and new digital scanning methods being employed at Yale, this ancient geometry lesson continues to be used in modern classrooms around the world.
“This geometry tablet is one of the most-reproduced cultural objects that Yale owns—it’s published in mathematics textbooks the world over,” says Professor Benjamin Foster, curator of the Babylonian Collection, which includes the tablet. Read more.
Music: Avicii - Waiting For Love Series: Steven Universe Edited By: Zazzle(Allegoriest AMVs)
I actually started this AMV last year before I made Hope of Morning, then put it aside because I couldn’t find the clips I felt I needed. I’m really glad I did - I was able to use the new episodes to really pull this one together in the end.
