Sent off my entry to the Toronto Star's short-story contest, because I had a non-fantasy non-sf story that needed a venue. Analog returned 'The Emmet' because it wasn't quite SFnal enough, but they were very polite about it. Funny how this coincided with sovay's viewing of Phase IV.
I've been unsure for weeks how to introduce this, but French photographer Sacha Goldberger has been collaborating for several years with his grandmother Frederika, staging humorous photos, and eventually began focussing on a character called Super-Mamika, a grandmother superheroine. They just closed their third show of photographs featuring the character and other elderly superheroes/villains. Behind the humour, or alongside it, Goldberger is interested in the same territory explored in things like Watchmen -- what is a superhero's life like outside of the panels? -- and is also very much aware of the Jewish background to most of those characters. In other words, it's not coincidence that of his three models in the most recent show, one (Mamika) spent the war eluding the Nazis and helping other people do so; and one (Alexandre Halaunbrenner AKA Dark Papouka - he's Vader's grandpa) is a man who survived the camps as a child and spent much of his adult life tracking down Klaus Barbie.
Kat Caro of Melancholy Kitties custom paints ball-joint dolls. Zagzagael is a photographer and tattoo afficianado. Last year they collaborated on a series of images inspired by tattooed model Rick "Zombie Boy" Genest.
(comments by Zagzagael)
1.The Sleeping Prince.
"I closed his eyes in Photoshop."
2. Black on White.
"...This selective focus is also a good choice for this doll - helps calm the viewer down. He's very busy!... He's my wide-open sincere boy....it's amazing."
"Surprising how expressive a skeleton can be!... I don't even recognize the unpainted boy in him anymore....(Kat) just found this skeleton inside wanting to come out..."
4. Happy Valentine's Day.
Looked through the various "creative" job listings, and applied for three or four things before imposter syndrome kicked in. It's easier to be brazen in email - they can't actually laugh *in* my face, for a start, and I figure I'm only wasting a couple of seconds of their time instead of a half-hour. I even did 1950s-style hair and makeup on myself and had green_trilobite take a bunch of head shots so I could apply for a stylist job on a photoshoot. Unfortunately the ad asked that I name my salary expectations: on the one hand, any real stylists I looked up had a payscale that was way higher than I was comfortable asking for given my total lack of history doing makeup on anyone but myself (and the occasional fellow-performer in amateur theatre); on the other, asking less would probably give myself away as an amateur. Eventually honesty won out and I cited the hourly rate I usually get for office work. I guess the worst that can happen is that they won't respond. Actually it'd probably be scarier if they did respond and I have to keep faking it. Aargh.
The other one shows the make-up better, but my long face looks better in profile than front-on.
Having googled "imposter syndrome," I suspect I'm misusing the term. Apparently you have to actually be successful first, and then feel like it's all a mistake.
ETA -- Well, I actually got a fairly nice reply that wasn't a "no," so I'm at least under consideration. : )
I also have some thoughts about why modern viewers might mistake Victorian photos of living subjects for post-mortems.
Arrgh. I'm not even a proper historian, just a geek with a morbid turn of mind.
* As opposed to post-mortem photos where the subject is (a) clearly dead, usually in his/her coffin, or (b) retouched to look alive, but still in a supine position - usually with the aim of portraying the deceased as peacefully asleep.
** Short version - years ago I read The Unpleasantness at the Bellona Club, and recall a passage about why hospital staff hate hate hate it when a patient dies in a chair and doesn't get discovered until rigor mortis has set in...