Latest Posts by thewritingchild - Page 2
C'mere sweet child a hard truth is that sometimes you will write whole chapters for a person in your life, but all you will ever be is only scribbles in their margins. An after thought, an editors note.
I think often how we overuse words. And how because of that, words that had potency and weight, sometimes now feel trite or even almost empty, half spoken without conviction. "Beautiful" it's almost as trite and vague as it comes now, it's lost it's meaning. There is no singular word that I can give to you to describe her radiance adequately. There is no word to define the way my heart rushed when her skin touched mine. I thought my heart would never be still again. It may have settled but my feelings sure haven't. It's still racing trying to find some sort of definition. It is like a gnat trying to quantify and calculate the breadth width and height of a mountain or some sort of decimal trying to comprehend all of creation.
Life was like an ocean and she was a wave I was just getting tossed in.
Another love letter, I'll likely never send.
I think of people all day long. There are peoples whose names are written in the valves of my heart and with every beat and measure their meanings send my lifeblood through my veins. However, recently my thoughts are falling on you. I feel like I've wrote this letter-of-sorts to you a thousand times, and sent it to you none. For most people I can enumerate exhaustively every grievance or alternatively adequately admit any appreciation. But for you it has been consistently hard to find and define. For sometime I have been mixing up every word and position, it's definition and connotation trying to form something coherent. But I fear somewhere from heart to head, from head to hand, or hand to paper, it is getting lost in translation. Unfortunately I am acutely aware of my own mistakes, and I can say that I have committed many transgressions both purposeful and otherwise, big and small. And the greatest of these, at some point in my life I intentionally removed myself. For far too long I have remained silent and absent. Exclusive and Elusive. Now I am trying to write myself back into the narratives of many people. You are one of them. My thoughts and moments for you are variable and different, some are as the rosy fingered sky brings dawn to day, or as a quiet snow blankets a patient night. As the warmth of my heated seat reminds me of a shivering passenger. Or even now, as I'm writing this, your smile the sound of your laughter. I cannot say for certain if the formality of my words widens the gap, or closes the distance. But I know at least I've tried to convey some semblance of the reality that is, in a single trite expression "In my heart." I know that eventually, at sometime a bell will toll for my name, and my sins tallied. I can only pray that the ground remembers my name, and forgives me and just allows me to rest in the sun and grass, under my own vine. Then my body burned and ashes spread. But in a life, I can know this one victory. That I did not regret to shower the people I love with love. You are one of them. I would willingly give to you my days, hours and minutes. However I fear, that you, like most cancers put on shell, or an armor to protect something. And that's okay there is no fault or shame in that. You are allowed to be as guarded, defended or distance as you are comfortable with. You have opened yourself up to me before, and in that touching moment you impressed on to me an image. Something worth protecting. You are not fragile. You are sturdy. You've known pain, and adversity. What vision I received is one I will covet, cherish and hold sacred. You do not ever have to make yourself vulnerable to me, but I would like to make myself to you. If you give me the chance to, I'll give you those things my days, hours and minutes. If given your permission, I would be in your narrative. I see you, I hear you, if you would allow me, I'd hope to help you feel those ways. I am not here to defraud, defame, or even deshell you. My only motivation is to care, love and to get know you better. I only hope you don't misread my intention.
what are some really good female led horror films? i know some classics but im only now getting into horror and ill take any rec (can be as obscure as u want, idk)
shock (1977), carnival of souls (1962), nekromantik 2 (1991), baby blood (1990), opera (1987), black christmas (1974), the blood spattered bride (1972), cat people (1942), the entity (1982), the haunting (1963), dans ma peau (2002), kissed (1996), let’s scare jessica to death (1971), the night of the hunted (1980), daddy’s deadly darling (1972), hausu (1977), lisa lisa (1974), der fan (1982), the witch who came from the sea (1976), the living dead girl (1982), thirst (2009), possession (1981), suspiria (1977), the beyond (1981), raw (2016), daughters of darkness (1971), dumplings (2004), the demon (1963), cathy’s curse (1977), taste of fear (1961), messiah of evil (1973), symptoms (1974), absentia (2011), starry eyes (2014), bug (2006), the iron rose (1973), lake mungo (2009), the grapes of death (1978), night of death (1980), the birds (1963), alice sweet alice (1976), the long hair of death (1980), the house on sorority row (1982), alucarda (1977), kitchen sink (1989), a nightmare on elm street (1984), a tale of two sisters (2003), images (1972), may (2002), femmine carnivore (1970), dark water (2002), phenomena (1985), one missed call (2003), the slumber party massacre (1982), blood and roses (1960), the psychic (1977), ms .45 (1981), hotel (2004), full circle (1977), macabre (1980), vampyres (1974), lisa and the devil (1973), the house that cried murder (1973), succubus (1968), i walked with a zombie (1943), tomie (1999), the seventh victim (1943), the obscene mirror (1973), all the colors of the dark (1972), the girl who knew too much (1963), daughters of fire (1978), the diabolical dr. z (1966), the perfume of the lady in black (1974), evil dead trap 2 (1991), dream demon (1988), folies meurtrières (1984), fatal frame (2014), the queen of black magic (1979).
That woman in the photo is my Mother and that child is me. As you can see I am momma's son. I share her eyes, her hair, and her sense of humor. If you have ever laughed with me. You have laughed with her too. She is the presence who has always had my back. Even if she did not always agree. My Mother. Who had me at 13. Her life barely beginning , already committed to loving someone as small as me. I was a premature baby, very tiny. She was my first best friend, who probably cried more than I did on my first day of school. She wasn't able to finish her schooling but she went back and got her G.E.D. so no one could ever say to her "You Failed, You Didn't Succeed" she set her kids up with a model, and something to try to achieve. They say the love between Mother and Child is sacred, being known and loved by her I'd have to agree. There is no sacrament I could give to her that wouldn't be trinkets compared to what she gave to me. My Mother, who held me and called me precious. She, herself, however is something I will always treasure. Thank you, Mom. I love you dearly.
The man on the left is Me and the man to the right is My Father. And if speaking honestly I have never given that man enough credit. Most of the best things I am, I inherited from him. He takes up most of me. Literally half, and figuratively far more than that. He has been a constant pressure in my life, and first It's like what, that doesn't sound great but then you remember that's what turns carbon to diamonds. And yeah there's has been a lot tension and friction in our relationships past, but nothing has ever been polished or shined without those exact things. My Father has always loved me without any modifier. He has been of a sturdier stock than I, and his firm guidance has always been to a better path than the one he had to walk. Once I remember my youth pastor compared my Father to how fountain square (Our home) used to be, and I am like how Fountain Square is now. And I don't think there could have been a better metaphor because while we are two different people where share the same base, and we may present ourselves differently but our love is just the same. My Father, I call him "old man", because I know I will always be able to depend on him in any age or time. My Father, if my life were a house he would be the frame. My Father, once with reluctance but now with reverence I carry his name. My Father, I have never given that man enough credit, and starting now Id like that to change.
I had a pretty terrible day yesterday. I woke up in the middle of the night, and my brain was like "Why don't you make a self portrait but make it plum?" So I did. And this is what I landed on. I made this after a terrible day in a terrible year, where I have felt lost and confused. What I've learned while making this is that Identity and Narrative are things you have to give to yourself.
“For some time, Hollywood has marketed family entertainment according to a two-pronged strategy, with cute stuff and kinetic motion for the kids and sly pop-cultural references and tame double entendres for mom and dad. Miyazaki has no interest in such trickery, or in the alternative method, most successfully deployed in Pixar features like Finding Nemo, Toy Story 3 and Inside/Out, of blending silliness with sentimentality.”
“Most films made for children are flashy adventure-comedies. Structurally and tonally, they feel almost exactly like blockbusters made for adults, scrubbed of any potentially offensive material. They aren’t so much made for children as they’re made to be not not for children. It’s perhaps telling that the genre is generally called “Family,” rather than “Children’s.” The films are designed to be pleasing to a broad, age-diverse audience, but they’re not necessarily specially made for young minds.”
“My Neighbor Totoro, on the other hand, is a genuine children’s film, attuned to child psychology. Satsuki and Mei move and speak like children: they run and romp, giggle and yell. The sibling dynamic is sensitively rendered: Satsuki is eager to impress her parents but sometimes succumbs to silliness, while Mei is Satsuki’s shadow and echo (with an independent streak). But perhaps most uniquely, My Neighbor Totoro follows children’s goals and concerns. Its protagonists aren’t given a mission or a call to adventure - in the absence of a larger drama, they create their own, as children in stable environments do. They play.”
“Consider the sequence just before Mei first encounters Totoro. Satsuki has left for school, and Dad is working from home, so Mei dons a hat and a shoulder bag and tells her father that she’s “off to run some errands” - The film is hers for the next ten minutes, with very little dialogue. She’s seized by ideas, and then abandons them; her goals switch from moment to moment. First she wants to play “flower shop” with her dad, but then she becomes distracted by a pool full of tadpoles. Then, of course, she needs a bucket to catch tadpoles in - but the bucket has a hole in it. And on it goes, but we’re never bored, because Mei is never bored.”
“[…] You can only ride a ride so many times before the thrill wears off. But a child can never exhaust the possibilities of a park or a neighborhood or a forest, and Totoro exists in this mode. The film is made up of travel and transit and exploration, set against lush, evocative landscapes that seem to extend far beyond the frame. We enter the film driving along a dirt road past houses and rice paddies; we follow Mei as she clambers through a thicket and into the forest; we walk home from school with the girls, ducking into a shrine to take shelter from the rain; we run past endless green fields with Satsuki as she searches for Mei. The psychic center of Totoro’s world is an impossibly giant camphor tree covered in moss. The girls climb over it, bow to it as a forest-guardian, and at one point fly high above it, with the help of Totoro. Much like Totoro himself, the tree is enormous and initially intimidating, but ultimately a source of shelter and inspiration.”
“My Neighbor Totoro has a story, but it’s the kind of story that a child might make up, or that a parent might tell as a bedtime story, prodded along by the refrain, “And then what happened?” This kind of whimsicality is actually baked into Miyazaki’s process: he begins animating his films before they’re fully written. Totoro has chase scenes and fantastical creatures, but these are flights of fancy rooted in a familiar world. A big part of being a kid is watching and waiting, and Miyazaki understands this. When Mei catches a glimpse of a small Totoro running under her house, she crouches down and stares into the gap, waiting. Miyazaki holds on this image: we wait with her. Magical things happen, but most of life happens in between those things—and there is a kind of gentle magic, for a child, in seeing those in-betweens brought to life truthfully on screen.”
A.O. Scott and Lauren Wilford on “My Neighbor Totoro”, 2017.
Double puff, just to be safe.
Do you have any advice for understanding hands better? I’ve been practicing them for years but feel like compared to other aspects of anatomy it’s the one thing I haven’t seen much improvement in. I draw both from life and images and draw nearly everyday but nothing I’m doing seems to help
I personally get by mostly from remembering poses that I’ve already practiced a ton, like I figure out how to draw it once and am able to file that away in my brain and use it again later, and tweak bits of the pose or the level of simplification to suit what I’m drawing.
I’ve paid special attention to drawing hands for like.... most of my life so I have a LOT of poses I’m easy comfy with now, but when I need to figure out something complicated or new, I can usually work it out by breaking a hand down into shapes, remembering a few key points/”rules” from what I’ve learned about hands in order to help me break it down in a way that makes sense. And if that’s not enough either, then I take photo refs.
^^^ here is a pose I use a ton. I have a quick way of drawing it from various angles. the first time I had to draw a pose like this, I had to think and figure it out, but in drawing it a bunch of times and having to use various angles like this, I’ve eventually come up with a quick, reliable way to draw it from a few of the most common angles that fits the style I like to draw in. I’m blessed with a good memory for observations, so when I see a beautifully posed hand, I can usually really quickly analyze what I like about that pose and why, and that helps me absorb it so I can recreate my saved impression later. But I know not everyone thinks the same way. it might benefit you to quickly scribble down a study in a sketchbook when you see a pose you find beautiful and want to learn from for later.
^^^ here are some poses I had to stop and spend time figuring out, calling up the “rules” for how hands are built to kind of logic-out how they should look from angles I’m less familiar with. results can be mixed, but... if I end up with something expressive that fits the style of the rest of the drawing, I’m usually really forgiving of fudged anatomy or slightly wonky proportions. as long as the thumb is on the right side and there aren’t too many fingers, that’s a great start lol.
^^^ and here are ones I had to take reference-selfies for. I try to use this as a last resort because 1) it’s a lot of trouble 2) interrupts my drawing and 3) if I’m not careful I stick too close to the reference, and the drawing ends up with the hand looking referenced and the rest of the pose not, which is jarring to me. not to mention I have tiny manlet wrists that without fail, look horrific and emaciated in photos, and the lens distortion makes my fingers look scary too... ugh, photo reference has definite flaws. I actually don’t like the look of drawings for which I can Really Tell the artist drew from photo reference, because most often that means they’re taking the ref too much at face value and incorporating ugly lens distortions into their drawing. so I have to think extra hard not only about interpreting the ref, but also might have to make multiple passes just to get the hand to look normal, AND match the style of the rest of the drawing.
Anyway, here are some of the ““rules””” I mentioned earlier that I fall back on to help me figure out more complicated poses:
1. probably seen this before, but basic proportions. the palm is usually half the total height of the hand. obviously you can mess with this purposefully.
2. I think of joints as like, ball joints or hinges. I find that easier than trying to remember bones & muscles. here’s a drawing of the wrist as a hinge. note that when you’re thinking of it this way, it’s a shortcut, but a shortcut is only good if you use it with precision. notice the pin for the wrist hinge is not just halfway, it’s closer to the top of the hand. being precise about that is what allows this shortcut to work. the heel of the palm juts out, while the top of the hand transitions into the wrist quite smoothly.
3. simplified planes. planes are important yo. in super simple terms: top is flat, bottom is round. this works on the fingers too, actually. the tops are bony and tendony, and the bottom is where the fat is, so it’s rounder and soft
thinking of the hand as abstract shapes REALLY helps simplify the task of drawing hands, and is just as helpful even if you are drawing from reference. I can say “the palm is a box” and obviously the palm is not really as simple as a box, but if I think of the palm, wrist, and each finger joint as various shapes of box, then all of a sudden, psychologically, my task is SO much easier. I’m not drawing a Hand, which is hard, I’m drawing boxes, which is easy.
4. that prominent knob some people have on their wrist? that’s on the pinky side.
1. the knuckles aren’t really a flat row on top. the hand is like a cup right, so your palm can hold water and things. so we can think of the hand as a box to make figuring out the pose easier, but when it comes down to it, you’ll want to make it more of a curve. this curve is why you can see multiple fingers in a side view
2. when curled up, the fingers nestle together. the fingernails also turn slightly toward the center. even if I’m simplifying the hands significantly, I usually still draw the fingernails because they are SO useful for communicating the pose of the hand effectively.
3. lots of people suggest to think of the hand as a mitten, grouping the pinky/ring/middle fingers and singling out the index finger. this works great, the index finger is more independent from the other three. on the flip side, those three are really stuck together; if you’re drawing the pinky curled up all the way, then you better not draw the ring finger sticking straight up, cause that would HURT. anyway, singling out the index finger leads to more interesting poses in my experience.
1. this is another illustration of top = flat and bottom = curved. this is a really easy way to organize your line quality. straight lines and sharper angles where there is bone, and soft gentle lines where there is muscle and fat. your drawing as a whole will read very clearly if you find some guidelines like that to stick to, as it means all your lines are intentional and thoughtful.
2. this one’s about overlaps. when forms overlap, it makes a crease, and when you draw that crease you’re communicating which form is in front of the other. in the second drawing I reversed all the creases, and it looks.... messed up. think about how pieces connect.
so when you’re trying to make up a pose without using specific reference, I think it’s good to think about the.... flow of energy through the pose. honestly, I know it’s really abstract, but if I have an ability to make interesting poses that communicate weight and movement, the things that make people say your character feels ALIVE, like they really EXIST in a space... it’s because I started to think of poses this way. imagining streams of energy bouncing through the body, flowing down the limbs and out through the fingers. this is why hands are so important to me, cause they’re where the kinetic energy of the pose ultimately ends up. I talk about it when drawing the torso and arms and legs, but an interesting drawing has a bounce back and forth between opposites: for every curve, an opposing straight line, alternating back and forth down the entire body. if you’re sensitive to the energy of the pose, then even very simple poses will be interesting to look at.
anyway, with regards to hands, I imagine the energy getting sort of cinched in as it passes through the wrist, and then emanating out through the fingertips. I hope my drawing at least SORT of communicates this imagery. it makes sense because that’s BASically how the bones in the hand are anyway. and then the right side of the image above is just demonstrating some highly simplified gestures. see how the fingers fan out and curl in, rarely parallel to eachother. when you’re figuring out the pose, using a line to stand in for the row of knuckles is super valuable.
aaand finally, here’s two hands where I intentionally neglected correct anatomy and proportion because I felt it worked better for the style of the whole drawing. Left side: since this is a really simple and cartoonish style, I was thinking back to kids’ and shoujo manga I have read where the style was very solid and distinctive, but definitely NOT overly concerned with correct anatomy, or even really drawing hands, uh, “well” at all. to me, that sort of approach has a Look that I like to invoke sometimes, since for years I felt like I learned a bunch of anatomy and proportion and drawing from life actually in detriment to the liveliness and appealness of my drawings. this hand is mushy and makes very little sense, but it turned out as intended. Right side: sometimes I like to pretend fingers only have 2 bones in them, cause i am a Queen and i do what i want
and there you go. I hope that helped, like, at all? Look at real hands and photos of hands and hands in motion, but also look at drawn hands as well. find what you like, and work towards expressing that yourself. and remember the hand is part of the whole drawing. not only in the art style like I’d been talking about, but because the angle and placement of the hand is reflected in the angles of the arm, which in turn reflects on the angles of the shoulder, which affects the whole torso, etc etc etc. and the techniques you can use to understand and draw the rest of the body, works on hands too. as you improve everything else, your hands will improve as well.
DISCLAIMER: I whipped up these diagrams quickly, they’re not meant to be good drawings or accurate refs, just diagrams to illustrate my thought process lol
My astigmatism sometimes might exaggerate her radiance with spears of light and halos. However my myopia only makes me nearsighted not shortsighted.
If you ask me if I was made in God's imagine I would adamantly decline. However, if you asked me if she was made with some grander plan or design in mind, I would affirm because that is the opinion of mine.
I think it's appropriate that I changed out my head lights today. God probably knew it would be harder for me to see without you.
So I am gonna define a word here. Philosophy. Which meaning is regularly used as " A particular system of philosophical thought". I'm going to challenge that definition and modify it to this. "A particular system of thinking, feeling, or believing.". Now I'm going to explain why.
A philosophy, I believe, is the internalized intention. It is your thought processes, your reasonings, your logics, your feelings. These are not apparent, visible or measurable by any metric, rubric, or standard. After a certain age they become the basis for most of your meaningful actions, or at least for some of us.
Now your actions are separate from your thoughts and likewise vice versa. I am sure you have had an argument where you have you been "Oooh I could just throttle you right now.". But you don't, or won't. Another example you have probably have told yourself to get out of bed, or goto the gym. But your body for whatever reason didn't. Or at least I have that problem. I can think of one example of where my father in a moment of frustration slammed his fist into a pinball machine that he was repairing, breaking it more. His intention was to fix the problem. His actions complicated it further. (He later fixed the problem he caused, and the original issue as well)
Actions are Separate from Thoughts. They are, however, also something important, they are the externalized expression. These things are physical, they can be seen, felt, or heard. They are measurable. They are at times distinct and at other times subtle.
There is this age old question, "Who are you? Your thoughts? Or your actions?". I say to you, both. These things together, your philosophies AND your actions are who you are. If you made a Venn Diagram of these two things, that space where the two overlap is what I'm going to call "Thee Identity". These two things are symbiotic. They work off each other, they benefit from each other, they evolve and become more complex together. Or they should at least.
The integrity of who you are is based on how much those two things overlap. Think of Integrity like its a boat. If you puncture the side of that boat, you have now compromised it's integrity. It is now sinking. That's an exaggeration for dramatic effect, but if who you are becomes compromised. It's comparable to that.
Now to summarize. Your Identity, who you are, is a beautiful mixture of two contradictions. How you think, and how you act. The immeasurable and the measurable. Integrity is how much those two things overlap. It No matter what you believe, your experiences or your biases, your identity if formed by those two things. It is your DUTY as a living person to think about your actions and to act by thinking.
Death does not invalidate Life. Death does not seek to destroy you. It is not partial or bias to you.
Our Atoms are not our own. They did not belong to us before our birth. They do not belong to us after our death. They return to the Earth and become apart of everything.
Our Mannerisms are carried on by the people who loved us in life. And our spirits I believe live on forever in love.
Death is no more the enemy of Life. Than a period is the end of a sentence. And that's the nice thing about it. Is even after a sentence ends. Another one can keep going. We keep going.
People will envy your strength and success but not the struggle that brought you to it.
So a while back I heard someone say that we appropriated our ability to speak from God. And whether or not this is true, humor me.
I guess let's start from the beginning. In Genesis, it talks about how there was a formlessness , and God spoke "Let there be..." and suddenly there was things that there were never before. Formlessness Defined by Words Divine. Light, Dark, Land, Sea, Skies, and every living thing from just God's "Let there ..." . And then later in the Gospel John it reads "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God." That's how John starts his Gospel, that's how he opens his message that's how important it is. That God is Word. From the very beginning.
So now picture this God creates us, Humans. And we are created in God's Image. So we desperately try to communicate with God, and how do we do that? Feebly, I guess. Because what do we do? Speak. God had just created everything with words.
Now that's Blasphemy. Because would it not be? Blasphemy, is using Words Sacrilegiously. And Sacrilegious is the misuse of anything Sacred. Words are the Tools of Creation. So Words are Sacred. Our Words or Use of Any Speech is Blasphemy!
Now, most of that is me, way over thinking and stretching that to the extremes. But do you see what I mean? Words are powerful. With tact they can sway minds and hearts, and some words are carried across time. They build relationships, people, promises, companies, and nations and according to the bible all of Creation. Words are powerful things, and once dispensed they can't be returned or given back. Just as much they can build and create, they can destroy and take. And that was everything I was trying to convey.
There is nothing I want more than to be aged and grayed. With a porch and chair faced towards a sitting sun. A garden where there is always work to be done. A kitchen with full complements and recipes. Adorned with Wooly Blankets and Knitted Sweaters. And sharing my life with a spouse who is in love with and is loved by me.
I don't know always the directions I'm meant to move in. But I do know the distance is either damned or darned by your dictation.
I will remember flowers in glass vases.
And shoeless feet in grassy places.
I will remember caramelized skin. And a smile even sweater.
And movie nights, cuddled on the couches Sitting next to the heaters.
I will remember golden-brown hair. And the the way it felt.
I will remember dark brown eyes, and the way they'd make me melt.
I have actually yet to find rest. My Anxiety causes me much pain and distress like a storm that rages with usurping gales. Swirling, Turning, Tossing, displacing what cannot be lost. Costing me negative gain. It makes me fearful and afraid, like trying to clutch sand, only to have the grains slip out of your hands. I cannot find sleep, because all I feel is deracine. Safety is hard to find out there on the rollings seas. My peace is in some far off Rosy fingered dawn. And security and ease of mind are much more memories. It makes me breathe like no matter how much I intake it will not inflate in my lungs. Like my body would much rather pause on this breath, like it means less than to see the rest of the road. All these worries they share the same name. They are called the same as you.
I often have my own moments where I feel like I'm both the storm and the sea that rage all at once. Then a kind soul or comment will come and humble me into nothing more than a paused breath. Reminding me of my place in the shoal of souls that we are. We ebb and flow in and against the direction of all other people. If we all opened our hearts a little more than our egos. I think we could find ourselves in much better places.
We will all find different foundations to set our lives on. Giving us, individually, aspects of the divine. I found mine, and it is Love. Yours might be something different. If you broke yourself down to its smallest pieces? What do those pieces look like, what do they act like, how do they think and feel? We are given different traits and stories, and each one of them is valid.
We are empty vessels and the hollow casks. Our spirit is the kindling and love is our fire. Burning blazing brilliant. Most other things are cheap substitutes for the kindling of our fires. They are meager, and fleeting. Dying. Love is eternal. So, so are our spirits.
Seek after unconditional love and it's definition, all other things will follow.
If you sift through and break yourself down to it's smallest parts. What would they actually look like honestly? I think some of us would automatically respond, positively. And insincerely. Not honestly.
I think it would all do us well to better inspect ourselves.
I dreamt of a dark and failing world. Where I met an Artist who wept for his wife. "Oft people believe that better is a lingered life. I tell you different now, which of these would you prefer Rotting or Dying. Dead is better."
And later in this dream a giant disembodied hand that blazed and burned, took the man's aisle and turned it upside down. There he was burned and crucified. Leaving only ashes of an artist and a painting of his wife.